Talent Show
by SimmyChicken
Summary: She saved his life once. Now it's time Jack saved hers. Sequel to Karaoke Night.
1. Talent Show

Hey! Did you guys miss me? :D Here's the long awaited (AKA twenty-four days) sequel!

* * *

Jack Frost flew desperately over the city, snow swirling around him in a frenzied haze. _Please be okay, please be okay, _he prayed. _Oh, MiM, what if Pitch is back? What if he has her again? What if-_ He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. She was fine. She had to be.

He began scanning the streets, looking for the street that she had said she was on. "Forty-Fifth and Broadway, Forty-Fifth and Broadway," he repeated to himself. But before he could find the streets, what he saw made him touch-down on the pavement and slide to a stop on the iced cub.

In front of him were police cars and fire trucks, swarming around a semi-truck on its side, the front smashed in. The truck driver was already being pulled out of the front, looking dazed but otherwise unharmed. And in front of it, lying like a wounded soldier in a ditch, a car flipped on its back, the side that the semi had rammed into smashed into the car. Just past the broken window glass and the paramedics swarming around it, Jack could make out a small hand peeking out from under the car. Around the wrist was a charm bracelet, the single pendant winking out to him in the faint sunlight.

His heart stopped. _Atlantean 'A'._

"No," he whispered. His knees buckled beneath him. "_No._"

He knelt despairingly on the sidewalk, looking at the outstretched hand that extended from the underside of the overturned car, he wondered how it had come to this. How, after everything that had just happen, he had allowed this to happen.

Well, he couldn't answer either one. But he _did_ know how it had started. It seemed so long ago, that crisp September morning, when his world began to turn upside down..._again_.

* * *

_One Year Ago..._

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you _really_ have to go?"

Jack looked down at the beautiful feathered body in his arms. Beautiful amethyst eyes looked back. He smiled as he drew his index finger along the ridge of her nose, his other hand, which was wedged between Tooth's head and the pillow. "You know I promised Jamie I would go to the Talent Show," he reminded her. "Remember how hard he practiced on my guitar? Wouldn't sleep for days...?"

"I know," she sighed, pouting adorably. "But I don't want you to go."

"Neither do I," he assured her, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her nose. "But I've already had to go through one fourteen-year-old tantrum, and I don't ever want to go through another." He shuddered. Shouting, flying objects- not one of his favorite visits.

"But we never spend any time together!" she complained.

She had a point. The last time they had been together had been over three months ago, since Jack had to go into hibernation once June hit. He had woken up in the middle of August, but Tooth's work kept her so busy that they couldn't meet until the month was almost over. And even before then, they would meet only once or twice, three times tops, during the month, Tooth's teeth collecting and Jack's...frosting keeping them both busy.

He pursed his lips, thinking, then grinned. "How 'bout this? As soon as Jamie's part is over, we can go to the _La Fleur de L'esprit_ together," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her as he used his best French accent on her.

She gasped. "Jack, really?"

He nodded. "Then afterwards, we can go to the _Bois de Vincennes_. Take a little walk around the park. Sit by the water. Look up at the moon..." He trailed off, his finger dragging along the length of her thigh.

She pounced on him immediately, flipped him over and positioning herself over him so that she was straddling him. "You're not joking, right?" she demanded.

He composed his features into his best serious-face. "Tooth, would I joke about something like this? Besides, you need something nice. After...after what happened, you could do with a nice night out."

Tooth's face sobered up, and she nodded. Last month, when Jack was still in hibernation, Tooth had gone through her third miscarriage. This time, they had been so close. She had been eight months along this time. It didn't help Jack's conscience that he hadn't been around to help her that time, to help her get through the pain of losing another child.

_Two years, _he thought. _Two years of trying._ He wasn't sure how much more he could take opening an egg and finding a dead fetus inside. But hopefully, if all went well tonight, it would be the last.

After Sandy had informed Jack of Tooth's latest miscarriage, Jack- knowing the problem laid their centuries-old sperm and eggs- had spent the last few weeks searching for Brigid, one of the most well-known fertility spirits that this world had, and consulted her about her problem.

"Oh, lad, this is no problem!" she had exclaimed, her faint Irish accent twanging her words. "I have dealt with problems worse than this."

"Wait, so you'll do it?"

"Of course I will! Anything for the ever-so charming Jack Frost," she had said warmly. He blushed. "But I must warn you, Jack. Sometimes...sometimes a woman is never able to conceive a child," she had said slowly. "I am actually surprised that she was even able to carry. Toothiana is an old spirit, older than me."

"All I want is for us to have our child," he had replied firmly.

Jack would tell her about the appointment tonight, he decided. Hopefully, she wouldn't have too much of an objection to it. She wanted this just as badly as he did, right?

"Uh, Jack?"

Her voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Yeah?"

"The cat's back."

"Huh?" He turned his head to the left, then flopped his head back onto the pillow with a groan. A pure white cat with icy blue eyes sat in the doorway, her head tilted to the side at them. "How does that cat keep getting in here?" he exclaimed as he slid out from underneath Tooth and walked over to her. She looked up at him, her eyes widened innocently. He remembered how they had been an emerald green, her coat a tabby-calico. He sighed as he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, the act almost a habit after the past couple years. She mewed in protest, but didn't struggle as he carried her out of the room and down the hall the back door.

"Seriously, though," he said as he set her down and pushed open the door, "how do you keep getting in?"

She padded past the door frame, then stopped and turned to glance at him over her shoulder. It was almost as if she was..._hesitating_, or something. Then she turned back and seemed to shake her head. Then, without another mew, she jogged down the steps and into the woods, her white pelt blending into the fallen snow, until she was a blur against the snow. He sighed, shaking his head, then closed the door and went back to his room where Tooth was waiting for him.

"Sorry 'bout that," he sighed as he sat back onto the bed. "So, what'll be?"

She smiled. "I'd love to go, Jack."

"Great. So, meet you at the old Thaddeus Burgess statue? As soon as the moon rises?"

"It's a date," she promised. He grinned, and they leaned in until their lips met. He closed his eyes for a brief second, enjoying the tingle that ran up and down his body. _Man, that never gets old, _he thought as he pulled away.

"Well, I guess you better get going," she sighed, flittering up and sitting down on the bed beside him. She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he sat up and grabbed his staff.

He grinned at her as he flipped up his hood. "Come on, let me walk you to the door," he offered, extending his hand.

"Oh, don't mind if I do." She placed her small hand into his large one, and let him guide her out of his room and down the hall to the front of the house. "Tell Jamie that I wish I could have been there," she said as he opened the door.

"He knows how busy you are," he assured her, placing his hands on her shoulders, then leaned over and placed a kiss on the spot between her eyebrows. "But I'll tell him," he promised before leaning down and placing another one on her lips. Her wings hummed louder as she flittered upward to press against his, her hands cupping his face.

He leaned back, smirking. "See you in France."

"See you in France," she repeated, her purple chrysalis eyes flitting over his icy blue ones.

Jack gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then hopped off of the porch, and let the wind catch him in midair and sweep him up into the sky. "Love you!" he called over his shoulder, then shot off into the general direction of Burgess High.

* * *

"You came, you came!" Jamie exclaimed happily as soon as they were alone in an empty hallway, bouncing up and down. His sneakers make squeaking noises that echoed down corridor with every hop. He suddenly stopped bouncing. "Okay, that's sounds wrong. But I'm _so _glad you came! I was so worried that you wouldn't come, that I'd-"

"Come on, Jamie, do you really think that I wouldn't come to something you've been chewing my ear off of for almost a month about?" he teased as he ruffled his hair, gazing down at the boy affectionately. After three years since they had met, Jamie had sprung up like a weed, the top of his head reaching Jack's nose. His face had gotten more narrow, and his hair, usually flattened down and neatly cropped at the ear, now stuck up in odd places, as wild and unruly's as Jack's own hair. The vintage Gibson guitar that North had given him last Christmas was resting against his back, the strap wrapped around his torso.

"Well, I don't know. To be honest, I thought you would be, like, too busy making babies with Tooth-"

Jack immediately proceeded to clinch the teen in a tight headlock, scrubbing his knuckles into his scalp. "Hey, hey! Stop! I finally got my hair the way I like it!" he complained as he managed to squirm his way out of his grip and began to 'fix' his hair.

"What, like Russell Brand's?"

"Russell Brand's hair is awesome," he informed him. "But, I actually...kinda wanted it to be like yours," he admitted, sliding one hand down into his hoodie pocket.

He blinked in surprise. "Really? Wow...thanks, Jamie."

"I just thought, that maybe, since you're, like, my great-great-great-great-grand-uncle or something, I just thought that I should, you know, act a little bit more like you."

Jack chuckled wryly. "I don't know if you've noticed, kiddo, but I'm not really that good of a role model to follow."

"Oh? And who else was awesome enough to teach me how to play the guitar? My dad?" He snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Well, I _am_ pretty awesome," Jack agreed. "But Jamie, remember that you're your own person. Don't spend time trying to become someone you're not," he cautioned.

Jamie opened his mouth, when a sudden roar from the auditorium down the hall cut off whatever he was about to say. He glanced at Jack. "Go knock em' dead," he said warmly.

"Thanks, Jack! Remember, last act!" he called as he sprinted down the hallway.

"I won't forget!" he called back as Jamie rounded the corner. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he turned around and swung his staff on to his shoulder. _What to do, what to do, _he mused. He would have a good- what, forty-five, fifty minutes? Without really meaning to, he began to look around, studying the lockers that lined more than half of the hallways, the abandoned classrooms. It was pretty fancy for a high school, with impressive murals and boards and posters. He noted that they were already having elections for the student body.

Just as he was bending down to examine one of the candidates for vice president, Jack heard something. At first he shrugged it off, but then he heard it again. It was a sound that he knew anywhere: the soft keys of a piano. He frowned as he stood up. Everybody was supposed to be in the auditorium for the Talent Show.

Curious, he followed the piano keys, straining to catch the tune. It _sounded _familiar, but he was too far away to be sure. He slid down a short stair banister, then skidded to a stop in front of the band room. The door was closed, the window covered up. He hesitated, then pressed his ear against the door, and sure enough, he could hear the piano, loud and clear. And...somebody singing.

Jack pressed his ear harder against the door. It sounded _like_ a girl, but the voice was husky and low, so he couldn't be sure of that either. His curiosity peaking, he rested his staff against the wall, then wrapped his hand around the knob, and twisted it. The door opened with a click. Slowly, he pushed it slightly open, then slipped through the crack, and closed the door behind him.

It looked as normal as any other band classroom, the room circular with stands and instrument cases left along the rises. Posters of violins and clarinets decorated the walls, as well as cases full of trophies. In the middle of the room was a classic grand black piano. The pianist apparently didn't hear him open the door, and had her back to him. Her fingers glided over the piano keys, singing to the melody that she was playing.

"_Wish that I could cry;_  
_Fall upon my knees._  
_Find a way to lie_  
_About a home I'll never_ _see._"

"_It may sound absurd but don't be naive._  
_Even Heroes have the right to bleed._  
_I may be disturbed, but won't you concede?_  
_Even Heroes have the right to dream._  
_It's not easy to be me_..."

Jack found himself resting against the door, listening to her voice as it echoed in the empty room. She was a fantastic singer, no doubt about it. Her voice was strong, yet soft at the right moments, and gestured with the song with her body, her shoulders rising and falling with each statement, her head bobbing in time with her singing.

"_Up_,_ up and away, away from me._  
_But it's all right._  
_You can all sleep sound tonight_  
_I'm not crazy, or anything..._"

She sang with raw emotion in her voice, as if she had personally gone through all of what was happening in the song. He easily identified the feelings: sadness, anger, self-pity, and most of all resentment. He noticed that her voice cracked on 'crazy', and Jack could almost feel a...a depression, coming from her. She sighed as she paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, then continued, softer than before.

"_I can't stand to fly._  
_I'm not that naïve._  
_Men weren't meant to ride_  
_With clouds between their knees!_"

The volume on the piano was back in full crescendo, making Jack jump.

"_I'm only a man in a silly red sheet,_  
_Digging for kryptonite on this one way street!_  
_Only a man in a funny red sheet,_  
_Looking for special things inside of me,  
Inside of me...  
Inside of me...  
Inside of me!_"

"_I'm only a man in a funny red sheet.  
__I'm o__nly a man looking for a dream.  
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet,  
And it's not easy...  
It's not easy to be..._"

Her fingers stopped playing, then she pulled down the cover over the keyboard with a sigh, her head bowed. "Me," she whispered, barely audible. Pity welled up inside of him. She was obviously one of those lonely, picked-on highschool kids who had no friends but so much to offer to the world. Maybe he could get Jamie to befriend her. Suddenly, her head snapped up, her right ear swiveling like a cat's towards him. Then she spoke. "You know, if I had wanted an audience-" She swiveled around in her chair to face him. "-I would have auditioned for the talent show."

Jack stiffened as piercing eyes locked right on him. _Sweet MiM, she can see me._ "What are you doing here?" she said flatly.

"You know, you sounded much more friendlier when you were singing," was the first reply he could think of.

She scoffed, shaking her head as she bent down to pick up her backpack. "I doubt friendliness counts for much these days. Well, at least, not in high school, anyway." Jack tilted his head at her bitter tone. She slung her backpack over one shoulder, then regarded him with wary gray eyes. "Aren't you a little old to be in high school?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." He decided to hold off on the truth for now. "I'm just here to watch my friend play at the Talent Show. He's a freshman, and he's practicing for this all summer, and he begged for me to come and watch him."

"So shouldn't you being doing that?"

He shoved his hands into his pocket. "Well, I think I'd rather learn the name of the girl with a fantastic singing voice and piano skills, if you don't mind," he said slyly, sidling up to her. He was slightly surprise to see that she was almost as tall as him, their eye-levels parallel. Speaking of eyes...He squinted at hers. They were a bluish-gray, but tinged on the edges and around the iris were flecks of green and gold. Unique. Pretty. Her almond-colored skin almost covered up the spray of freckles on her cheeks that brought out the gold and green in her eyes. He frowned when he saw the half-moons under hers eyes. His eyes flitted across her face, and saw how thin her face was, almost as if she was ill.

She took a step back, wariness plain on her face. "Look, the Talent Show's almost over, so you better hurry up if you want to see your friend."

"Can't I get a name first?"

"I don't think this is the proper time and place for that, Jack," she said as she pulled on the other strap, then her body stiffened.

Jack stared at her. _Those words..._"What did you just say?" he whispered.

Her eyes widened a fraction, but then they narrowed, a carefully composed expressionless mask on her face. "I have to go."

_That voice..._"Wait, how did you know my name?" he demanded.

"I said I have to go," she snapped, pushing past him. He watched her, startled, as she slammed the door behind her.

"Wait!" He darted after her and pushed past the door of the band room to see...nothing. He swung his from side to side, looking down the hallways to see not a living soul. He gaped, then groaned as he pressed his palm to his forehead. "Great, Jack, you're hallucinating now," he muttered to himself as he picked up his staff. He shook his head, then hurried back into the auditorium just in time to see Jamie start his act.

As he watched in the far back as Jamie and some other boy played _Smooth _by Carlos Santana and Rob Thomas(Jamie playing the guitar while the other kid sang), he found himself twiddling with the pendant between his thumb and index finger, a habit he had developed over the past two years. Ever since..._that _happened.

Almost three years ago, Pitch had kidnapped Jack and for three months had tortured him physically and mentally, scarring him to the point to where it was a wonder that he wasn't a walking mental case now. Whipped, branded, even raped. Then to be fed his fears every day...He was lucky to have not turned into a fearling. After he had escaped, Pitch had kidnapped Tooth and turned the other Guardians back to their original form. It was because of the necklace that he had around his neck now that they were all still alive. It had summoned an Atlantean woman- or girl?- who had been able to keep defeat Pitch and even brought Jack back from the dead. But to bring Jack to life had meant that she had to stay in the land of the dead. He hadn't seen her since. There had been flashes where he would hear her voice or see her in a memory he never had with her, but he had simply dismissed them as illusions, tricks of the mind.

_So you imagined that you heard the music? That you saw her play? Heard her sing?_ a voice whispered in his head. _You can still feel the sting where she pushed__ you._

Okay, so maybe the girl was real. But that didn't mean that she was the Atlantean. How _could _she be her? The Atlantean was muscular with white hair and cerulean blue eyes. That girl had gray eyes with dark brown hair, and looked as if she was a cancer patient. But then...She had known his name. Said words that had been stuck in his mind for two years.

Before he knew it, Jamie's act was over, and everybody was beginning to exit the auditorium. It took about three people walking through him at once to realize that the show was over. He looked up to see Jamie mouthing for him to meet him outside. He nodded, and managed to glide past everyone until he was outside in the courtyard.

He waited patiently as kids poured out of the double-doors, their bubbly chatter and laughter snatching away the quiet of the outside. He felt a brief flash of irritation at the loss of quietude, then frowned. He was never one for quiet.

"Jack!" He whirled around to see Jamie running to him. "So, how did I do?" he panted as he stopped in front of him, his brown eyes wide.

_Please don't notice that I didn't pay attention. _"You did great, kiddo. I'm proud of you." Jamie grinned at him. Jack was about to smile back when something behind Jamie caught his eye. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to see past the body of moving kids on their way home.

Narrowed grey eyes stared back.

He almost jumped out of his skin; it was like she had appeared out of nowhere. She was as still as a rock in a moving river, oblivious to the shoves and pushes of her classmates around her. The wind blew wisps of her hair that she hadn't put back into a ponytail into her face. Her expression was fathomless, her eyes expressionless.

Jamie frowned when he realized that Jack wasn't paying attention to him. "What's wrong? What are you looking at?"

Without breaking eye contact, he bent down next to him. "Jamie, do you know that girl?" he whispered.

Jamie glanced over his shoulder. "Which one?"

"Long brown hair. Grey eyes."

"Oh, her?" He turned back to Jack. "That's just Simone. She's moved in from San Francisco last year. She's a nobody."

His eyes flickered down at him, surprised at his tone. "A nobody?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "She's just a loser. Always does her work, never talks. No wonder she doesn't have any friends," he snorted. "Oh, and I heard that last year, someone went into her backpack and found pictures of these...things. Like underwater dinosaurs and stuff. Then there was this one picture with, like, a futuristic city with some poem on the back. It was, like, in some made-up language or something on the back." He shrugged again. "She's just weird."

He blinked. "She's weird because she draws pictures and writes poem?"

"It's not just that, though. You can almost _feel _the weirdness coming off her." He pretended to shudder. "Anyway, you coming over today? Sophie's been wanting to see you for, like, forever."

"No, no, I-I have to go, uh, check out something." He straightened up, not taking his eyes off of her. She still didn't move. Then, very slowly, she blinked. Her lashes were thick and long, the bottom row's spilling over like water over a waterfall. Her lips, which had just been pressed into a thin line, moved. He almost heard the words in his mind. _Panneb le nen. _He sucked in a breath. "Jamie, I gotta go."

"Oh. Well, see you soon, I guess." He seemed disappointed, but shuffled away. Jack glanced at his retreating figure, noticing the disappointed slope of his shoulders, and wondered if he should say something. Eh, he'd just take him out on a sled ride, smooth the whole thing over. He'd be fine. He turned back to her to see her whipping around and walking quickly away. _Oh great._

He hurried after her, desperate not to lose sight of her. "Wait!" he called. "Stop!"

She didn't turn around. If anything, she began to _run_, her backpack jostling between her shoulder blades. Before he could react, she was already halfway down the street. He cursed, and soared over and landed in front of her. She slid to a stop, her teeth bared. "Wait! I just wanta talk to you," he said, holding up his hands.

"Well that's odd, because I don't want to talk to you." She shoved past him, her feet making deep impressions in the snow.

"Wait!" he called, jogging after her. "Simone, wait!" Her body twitched, as if she was startled, but she didn't stop. "Simone, please! I just wanta talk to you!"

"Leave me alone!" she snapped.

"Why don't you want to talk?" he demanded.

"Why am I being stalked?" she shot back.

"I'm not _stalking _you, I just wanta _talk _to you."

"Same difference!"

"Look, Simone-"

"Leave me ALONE!" She whirled around to face him, her face suddenly livid. Without a warning, a wall of fire rose up in between them and across the whole street. Jack shouted in surprise, falling backwards into the snow. The heat scorched his skin, searing every nerve ablaze. A flowing wall of lava flashed before his eyes. His ears filled with the sound of clanging swords, screams of dying spirits-

Suddenly, the wall of fire was gone. And so was Simone.

Jack was alone in the street.

He stared, his body trembling. _Was...was that all a hallucination? _After all that he had been through, it wouldn't be unexpected. Then he noticed the melted snow and the scorch marks. _Nope. That was real. _He stood up and dusted off his pants. Wherever she went, she couldn't have gotten far. And as for the fire...that could wait.

After cautiously tiptoeing past the line of scorch marks, he let the wind sweep him up above the buildings so that he could get a bird's eye view. He _had _to find her. He scanned the streets, soaring over the shops and houses. All of the streets were deserted, though. He touched down in one of the streets, frowning. "Where did she go?" he wondered aloud.

"Are you touched in the head?" The scathing voice made him whirl around to see her standing behind him, anger and annoyance plain on her face. "Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" she hissed.

"Look, I just want to talk to you," he said, stepping towards her.

"And how many times have I told you, I don't want to talk to you?"

"Why not?" he demanded.

_Don't kill him, don't kill him._

Wait, what?

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't reply. Instead, she whipped around and stalked away. _Again?_ He groaned. This time, he let her walk away, then, carefully, began to fly after her. _Sweet MiM, I _am_ becoming a stalker_, he realized. She didn't glance over her shoulder the entire way there, though she did seem to relax once she crossed the street.

They seemed to have walked for an hour through the downtown before coming to one of the fancier neighborhoods on the far side of the town. It had modest three-story houses, with tall oak trees whose foliage stretched over the street and shaded the road with its branches. He landed in one of the trees, watching from the cover of the trees as she went up the street. She walked up to one that resembled a small White House, sighing as she pulled out her key out of her sweatpants' pocket.

_Now, _he thought, and swung out of his hiding place. Just as she opened the door, he landed in front of her. She jumped so violently that the door banged shut. "Dear Neptune have mercy, what are you _doing _here?!" she exclaimed. His heart almost stopped. There was almost no doubt now. The tall, regal way she held herself, her facial features, the freckle spray across her cheeks- how couldn't he see it before? _She was-_ "Get out of here before I bash you head in," she growled.

"How? By hitting me on the back of the head with a pole?" he challenged.

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes,_ exactly_."

So she knew. "You- I thought you were dead!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly.

"Don't lie to me! You know _exactly _what I'm talking about! You were the Atlantean that rescued me at Hohenzollern Cast-"

Before he knew it, she had him in a headlock, a hand over his mouth. "Shh," she hissed, her head swinging back and forth. Her hand were rough and calloused against his mouth, and through the thick fabric of her hoodie-jacket, he could feel the muscled arms around his neck. He glanced around, though he couldn't see anything. After a few seconds, she released him. "Okay, come inside, and then we can talk."

He blinked in surprise. The atmosphere around Simone- he finally had a name to go with the face!- had suddenly changed. Her expression was wary, her shoulders tensed. He glanced around the empty street, suddenly wondering what on Earth he had gotten himself into.

* * *

And there you guys go! If you want to read the original story(explains A LOT later on), here: s/8952978/1/Karaoke-Night

Warning, though, contains: torture, rape, castles, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and overuse of singing. :D

Reviews would be nice.


	2. Confrontation

"You can take a seat in the living room," Simone said as she hung her backpack on one of the racks next to the door. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Jack nodded, and watched her as she walked down the hall and under the archway on the right that must have lead to the kitchen. There was another archway across from it; that probably led to the living room. Down the hallway was a set of stairs that spiraled up to the next floor. He began to slowly walk down the hall, looking at the paintings and monuments on the wall. Light shot down from the skylights from above. The paintings were all beautiful, going from jungle landscapes to futuristic cities, each made with such precision and care.

Then the ornaments were...something else. He stopped beside a mantelpiece statue on top of an antique dresser, an obsidian carving of a centaur. Curious, he set his staff against the wall and picked it up. The stone was cool and smooth in his hands, each chiseled part molding into the next. It was intricately carved, the detail as realistic as can be.

"I'd appreciate if you'd put that down." He jumped at Simone's voice, and looked up to see her leaning against the archway. She had taken off her sweatshirt, and was wearing a white cottoned shirt with long sleeves that were now crossed over her chest. "It's my mother's favorite one, and I'd hate to see her face when she sees it in pieces on the carpet."

"Sorry," he muttered, setting it back down.

"It's okay, you didn't know." She unwrapped herself away from the arch and leaned back into the kitchen. She emerged with two mugs in her hand. _Huh. _She was polite, if anything. "Hot chocolate with whipped cream?" she offered, extending one of the mugs to him.

"Thanks." He slid his sleeves up to his fingers and took it tenderly. Smoke tendrils were escaping from the topping of whipped cream; he bent down and blew on it, then eagerly lapped up the creamy goodness. He glanced up to see Simone staring at him. He blushed, straightening his back. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes, though there were flecks of amusement in them. "Come on." With a flick of her hand, she led him into the living room.

His eyes widened as he entered the room. The theme was obviously Victorian, from the elegant green couches with handmade crochet pillows and lavender armchairs to the lamps on nightstands next to them. Then there were the cabinets filled with ornaments against the wall with paintings right above them and the elegant mirror above the fireplace with the antique candelabras. Statues that mimicked the ancient Romans' stood on pedestals, their hands extending to the creme-colored silk curtains. _Dear MiM, she's rich, _he thought as he gazed around the living room.

"Go ahead and sit wherever you like, though I'd prefer it you sat on or near the couch with the Atlantean characters on the pillows, so that I don't have to strain my voice or ears while we're talking. They're weak enough as it is."

"Atlantean characters?" He glanced down at the couch nearest to him, then noticed that the little stitches on the front of one of the velvet pillows curved into little symbols. One, in the exact middle, almost seemed to glow at him. He stared at it, then shook his head and sat down next to it. It was very soft, the fabric nice and cushiony.

"That's not a word," she sighed as she sat down in the armchair next to him, setting down her mug on the nightstand. He looked up, startled, but didn't say anything. "It's dark in here," she frowned, and raised her right hand, then, ever so slightly, flicked it. Jack glanced up just in time to see the candles in the crystal chandelier flicker with flames that weren't there before. Just then, he heard a sudden crackle. By the time he looked down, the fireplace was roaring, the flames crackling merrily. _Holy crap, she's a firestarter._

She leaned back in her seat and looked at him, her arms crossing back over her chest. Her eyes didn't seem so grey anymore; they almost seemed like a shade of green. They regarded Jack wearily. "What do you want?" she said finally.

He hesitated. This could go badly if he said the wrong thing. _Dude, YOLO__, remember?_ he reminded himself. He said boldly, "I want to know."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna have to be a _little_ bit more specific."

"Why did you lie to me?" he demanded. "You said that you had to stay in the Land of the Dead."

"And I was telling the truth. I had to stay there until you had gone."

"But you _implied _that you had already died."

She shrugged. "Miscommunication on your part. Any more questions?"

He gaped her, then groaned. She was just as difficult as last time. He glanced at her, then spotted the necklace around her neck, the crystal pendant- identical to his- nestling underneath her collarbone. It was glowing faintly a cobalt. He looked back up to see her watching him. "So you really are an Atlantean?"

"If you mean Atlantean as in I am of or like the Titan called Atlas, then no, though I have heard that my strength is rather astronomical. If you mean was I born in the Atlantic, that's a no, too. I was born in San Francisco, which, if you haven't heard, is right next to the Pacific. But if you're asking if I am from the underwater city of Atlantis-" she picked up her mug and began to swirl the spoon- "then yes."

"But you just said that you were born in San Francisco-" he began to protest.

She held her hand up. "Just because I was born in San Francisco doesn't mean that the Atlantean blood in me doesn't run as strongly as if I was born in Atlantis." She paused. "Have you ever read the Mortal Instruments series? By Cassandra Clare?"

"No, but I've read the Infernal Devices." He wondered where this was going.

"Well, remember how they talk about how, no matter what, Idris will always be a Shadowhunter's home? No matter where they were born?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's like that with us. And it's the same thing with genetics, too. Atlantean blood is always dominant."

"_Oh_." He nodded, understanding. "So...I heard you just moved here?"

She frowned. "I keep on forgetting that you're one-hundred-and-twenty-one years old. and that time probably passes fast for you. You only look eighteen."

"Thank you."

"I've actually been in Burgess for over a year now, and not by choice," she added.

"You don't seem to like it here," he observed, though from what, he didn't know.

"Of course not. It's...too small here." She sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, I'm a city girl at heart. Hard not to when you were raised in a bustling city. I mean, I love going and sleeping in the woods, hunting and being able to sleep under the starry sky. But I want to be in a place where a thousand hearts are beating in the night, the sound of a thousand lives going on at once. I like solitude and I like my privacy, but there's something...quiet in the sound of chaos." She hesitated. "I know it doesn't make sense. But it's how I feel. When we went to Atlantis for the weekend- which we still do- it just always seemed like we were going to a vacation home. Don't get me wrong, Atlantis is my home, but it's my dream home. San Francisco was-"

"-Was your reality," he finished.

She nodded. The longing for her home in her voice was obvious. Jack had felt it before, whenever he had stayed away from Burgess for too long. But the difference was that he could always go back whenever he wanted. He suspected that the case wasn't the same with her. "But Burgess is like neither. I live on the countryside in Atlantis, while I lived in the heart of San Francisco. This isn't either one. It's like the worst of both worlds. But I've been to places where it's the worst of both worlds. Mendocino* for one. The difference is that Mendocino had beautiful sunsets on beaches and the people were friendly."

He raised an eyebrow. "The people here aren't friendly?"

"I don't ever recall setting my textbooks on fire and ripping my notes being friendly," she said wryly.

"Wait, _what?_"

"My freshman year at Burgess High, when I was the only one out of all my classmates to receive a 4.0 in all of my honors classes in the first trimester, a bunch of douche-bags in my grade broke into my locker and set everything on fire."

"Didn't you tell someone?"

"I did. They were suspended and taken to Juvenile Hall. They have proceeded to make my life miserable ever since. Shoving me into the wall, ganging up on me in Physical Ed, going into my locker and ripping up my notes, ensuring nobody ever wanted to talk to me." Her voice was bitter, her eyes returning to a stormy gray.

"Or be your friend." _Where did that come from?_

She glanced up at him. "Are you using the bond?" she asked suspiciously.

"The bond?"

"Sorry, I keep on forgetting that you thought I was dead for two years."

"You seem to forget a lot of things," he accused.

She ignored him. "Have you ever had brief flashes where you thought you heard someone else in your head lately? Any- odd emotions?" Now that he thought about it, there actually _had _been. Not so often to where he thought it was odd, but they did happen. He nodded. "That might have been me," she confessed.

"What? How could that be you?" he demanded.

In response, she picked up the crystal pendant between two fingers, her eyes locked on his. "These are usually given to Atlantean newborns. It's rare when an outside get's one. And it's often because they are the reincarnation of an ancestor that was. We don't give it to them on purpose," she added to his unspoken question. "Fate just...carries the necklace to them."

"But I don't get it. How are we 'connected'?"

She tilted her head to the side, apparently deliberating how much she should tell them. "Along with the power of the Source, our...souls are carried in the crystal. We carry it there because then we have a stronger sense of who we are, which is a big thing in Atlantis. Self-realization is very important. Having who we are out in the open makes it easier to recognize old friends and...soul mates. The reason that we're connected is that our souls have met before, and made a powerful connection in our past lives."

_Oh snowballs. _"So...you and me...we were-?"

"I don't know." She shrugged nonchalantly, although her cheeks seemed more red than brown. "It's possible, though I seriously doubt it. It could just mean that we made a serious impact on each other's lives. I know a couple of people who are bonded who are just best friends, or even like brother and sister to each other. And it doesn't have to be a guy and a girl. It can be two guys or two girls, and they can choose whether to have a romantic relationship or a friendly one. I assume we'll try and stick to 'casual acquaintances', since you already have a girlfriend and your mere presence seems to annoy me to no end," she said wryly.

"But I haven't done anything," he protested.

She shrugged again. "Don't blame me. I have no quarrel with you."

Jack gaped at her. "But then-?"

"I don't. But she does."

"Who's she?"

"There's this voice that's always in my head. Always whispering to me. Always telling me to do things. Like wear lots of clothing or to avoid a certain area, avoid saying certain things. Telling me off on thinking and wondering about certain things. Avoid talking to you," she added. "I saw no harm in it, so I did."

Jack stared at her. _Holy snowflakes, she's insane._

"I am _not _insane!" she exclaimed.

"Wait, you heard that?"

"Yes, one of the _perks _of being bonded," she spat, her tone suddenly hostile. _Oh boy, _he thought, sensing the storm breaking. "Being able to hear and see the other's thoughts, though I have to say, thinking about snowstorms and Toothiana's feathers aren't all that exciting," she sneered.

"Whoa, whoa, who put ice down your back?"

She gritted her teeth. "I have been called 'insane' and 'weird' almost all of my life. By my classmates, my therapists and counselors, my own _family_." She glared at him. "I don't need to be called it by _you._"

"Alright!" he exclaimed. "I won't call you insane anymore."

Simone raised an eyebrow. "_Proameeseh?_"

"What?"

"Promise?"

He stared at her. Her eyes were wide, pleading. She really wasn't kidding. Then again, why would she? Looking back on it now, it didn't seem so hard to believe. The shoving and pushing in the courtyard as if there was no one there, her angst in the band room, when Jamie had brushed her off as a 'nobody' and a 'loser'. _You can almost _feel _the weirdness coming off of her._ But he couldn't feel any weirdness. He felt resentment, and pain. He wondered if she had always been so bitter and hostile. During the brief moments that she had smiled, had allowed bits of herself to come out, he had caught a glimpse of someone that he would admire, really like, even, only for it to be washed away by the fact that everybody thought that her mind should be locked up and stored away.

_What must it feel like?_ he wondered. _To be told that their mind was diseased and abnormal, to be ridiculed and cast out for a different way of thinking? _

_Like hell. _The thoughts were not his own, but for once, he knew whose it was. Simone tilted her head to the side, wisps of her hair falling into her eyes. Her eyes weren't gray anymore, but a deep blue. They stared into Jack's imploringly, beseeching him for his promise.

Jack nodded. "I swear."

She relaxed, and rested against the armchair. "Thank you, Jack. Do you have any other questions?"

"Uh yeah. What else can we do, since we're connected or whatever?"

"Well, we can draw on each other's strengths and powers. Remember back in Hohenzollern Castle, when I filled your chi paths? They're the paths that lead the energy to do what you can do through your body," she explained to his blank face. "And not just that, but the electric pulses that get to do simple things, like moving and speaking. Which means that I can do _this_."

Without a warning, he felt tiny twinges in his right, before he suddenly felt it jerk up. He looked over at her in shock just as his other arm went up. "Hey!" he exclaimed. His legs moved without permission, making him stand up. "Stop that!"

Her eyes glittered with amusement. "As you wish." With a gasp, he felt tingles run through his body again before collapsing back on to the couch. "We can also feel each other's emotions. We can even influence the other person with our own, if they're strong enough."

"So I could make you cheerful and happy all the time?" he suggested.

"Not if I have my wall up."

"Your wall?"

"My mental wall. It cuts off the connection from your end, though it's a bit difficult to see what you're up to from mine. It's how I've been able to keep you from finding out about me, though it get's harder and harder the closer we're together. You could probably go in right now, though I don't advise it."

"How come?"

"It's like the rapids before the waterfall," she informed. "You'll be swept up and tossed over the edge before you'll even know what happened."

He chuckled. "I believe that. Um, another question?"

She shrugged as she curled her legs underneath her. "Shoot."

"Why do you look so different? From- when we first met?"

"Different how?"

"Your hair, for one. And your eyes, too, I guess. They aren't white and blue anymore."

"The reason why is because I'm not in Atlantis, or using the Source's power. When I'm doing either, though, the pigments in my hair and eyes are taken away, as small payment for the Atlantean power flowing through my veins." She shrugged again. "I don't mind. I don't really like my hair color."

"Because you look so much like me?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "As if I would want to look like you. Anything else?"

He wondered if he should bring up her sickly appearance, then decided against it. She hadn't hit him yet, but he could feel that she was already itching for the chance. "Where is everybody?" he asked, looking around at the huge, yet empty house.

"My mom's at work, my brothers and sister are still at school, and I don't know where my father is- or care."

"You don't like your dad?" he guessed.

"He hates me. He wishes I was never born."

"Aw, come on. You don't know that."

"He said it to my face," she said flatly.

"Oh."

"Yep. Guess it has to do with the fact that my mom would rather be with someone who's dead than with him."

"Your mom was into necromancy?" he joked.

She didn't seem to be amused. "My dad, my _real_ dad was a mermaid- well, _half, _anyway- and my mom's best friend. They met when she was fourteen and he was sixteen, and around fifteen they started to date each other. Everything was all fine and happy until the Battle of Tundra Bay, where he died defending Mom. Then the Source decided that he could be some use to Atlantis still, and decided to turn him into a spirit, like how you are."

"Except I don't have a tail."

She nodded. "He's the Guardian of Tundra Bay now. He and my mother kept close contact afterwards, even when she married my father. Thing is, turns out that my father was an absolute jerk to her, and still is. So she went to my dad, probably a few times, and I-" she gestured at herself- "was the product."

His head was beginning to hurt. "Okay, so- two questions. Why did your mom stay with him if he was such a jerk, and how did they have you?"

"Atlantis has strict laws on marriage. They take that whole 'til death do we part' very seriously. Now, normally, that's not a problem. People find their soul mates easily and get married and are happy for all of eternity. But my father..." She bit her lip. "I don't think he has a soul. My mom won't tell me for sure, but he doesn't have a necklace. That only happens if you're truly empty inside, void of any true feelings or anything. And some people are like that. But he was such a good liar that my mother couldn't tell." She shrugged. "And for how I was born, aren't you and Tooth trying to have a baby?"

A blue blush spread across his cheeks. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

"Speaking of which, you'd better start getting ready for that appointment tonight," she added, standing up. "The sun's about to set soon."

He glanced at the windows. She was right; the clouds outside barely masked the sun that was steadily approaching the horizon. "I guess you're right. But- how did you know?" he asked again.

"I've been keeping tabs on you." Simone walked out the room and began to jog upstairs.

"Wait, what?" He quickly downed his mug, ignoring the blistering burns on his tongue, then hurried after her. "How have you been keeping _tabs _on me?" he demanded, flying up to the landing between the second and first floor.

"The bond," she said simply as she passed him and continued up the stairs.

"So you've been spying on me," he accused.

"Not spying. Checking up on you," she corrected. "Making sure you haven't gotten into trouble. Or worse, lead Pitch back to Atlantis."

"Because he'd get the most powerful source of energy in the universe?" he guessed as he landed next to her on the second floor.

"Pretty much, yeah." She walked down the hallway, which was suspended above the ground below, and opened the door at the end of the walkway. She was about to walk in when she caught herself. "Forgive me, I forgot my manners. Would you like to come in?" she asked, gesturing to the door.

He raised an eyebrow at her suspiciously. "What room is it?"

"My room. And I'm not jesting," she added.

_Who says jesting anymore? _he wondered.

"I thought you would, seeing as you're from the eighteenth century."

He rolled his eyes as he walked inside, then gasped. "Whoa...you...like red, don't you?"

_Like _was an understatement. Everywhere he looked, different shades of red splashed against every bit of furniture. Rose-red dresser, blood-red bed, violet-red lamps, brick-red bookcases, dusty-red desk, sunset-red chairs, even lobster-red carpet. Oh, the room looked ordinary enough, the models of the furniture modest- except for the four-poster bed, but it was just so _red. _The only different colors he could find was the books in the bookcase, and the murals on the wall of a sunset over the water under a soft pink and baby blue sky.

"It's the color of fire and blood," she said simply as she walked by him and sat down in one of the armchairs.

"Ah, yes, blood. Man's best friend. But couldn't you have put in some _blue _or _purple _or even _green_?" he asked.

"Purple is the illegitimate child of red and blue," she said flatly.

_Wut?_

"My bathroom's blue and green, though, if you want to check it out. Besides, I leave all of the colors to the garden. You can check it out when you leave."

"Right..." Jack sat down on the bed and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyelids, the red beginning to hurt his eyes. "So, does this come from being a pie-roh, piro-"

"Pyrokinetic?" she guessed. "Yeah, I guess. But to be honest, I've always like red. And blue, too, don't get me wrong," she added. "Blue is soft and gentle, like the ocean. Lovely and ferocious in its own time. But there's something about red that just...draws me, like a moth to a flame. I can't explain how or why. It just is."

"Have you always been one?" he asked curiously.

"Yes and no. It developed as I grew up into an actual power. Most Atlanteans develop their powers at around ten or eleven. I was about twelve, but all of them haven't come to me yet."

"_All_ of them? But you're already, like, super powerful and stuff!"

"No, I'm just very well-practiced at it for my age. Most don't until they're about sixteen."

"And you are-?"

"Fifteen."

"But two years ago- all that stuff you did at the castle-"

She held up her hand, and he stopped. "All I did was turn into a griffon, and drag Pitch down into the fiery depths. Besides, I still need to find out what my second affinity is, and master flying. Neither, I'm afraid," she sighed, "is as possible as the Raiders winning the Super Bowl this year."

"You can't fly?" he asked.

"Not well. I'm scared of heights," she confessed, "and being up so high while training always terrifies me so much that I change back. And almost fall to my death."

"I could help you," he offered. "Actually, I have a friend who trains with dragons. He's probably more familiar with the whole wing-movement and tail and stuff than I am. I'm sure I could get him to help you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why would you want to help me?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" When she didn't reply, he continued. "Look, you saved the Guardians from Pitch. If you haven't noticed, that kinda means we're in your debt."

"Right." There was disappointment in her voice. Jack was confused. What was she disappointed about? "Well, I'd rather spend my time on working on my other affinity. Fire is an extremely uncommon affinity in Atlantis, after Earth. It's usually Water and Wind, though sometimes people get Water and Earth."

"Why not Fire and Water?" he asked curiously. "Or Earth and Wind?"

"That's saying you have two personalities that are the same but completely different."

"That...doesn't make any sense."

"Exactly. It's based on who you are deep down. Most Atlanteans are like water, calm and mellow until the storm comes and all hell breaks loose. It's almost the same for those with Wind, except they don't like to fight, while Earth is eager for it."

"And those with fire?"

"Are dangerous," she said darkly. "Mentally and physically. Or, at least-" she drew her knees up o her chest-"so I've been told."

"But you don't believe that."

"I don't like to believe that I'm a threat to everyone, no," she said wryly. "But I also read a book, that gave very clear descriptions of the personality of each affinity. It said nothing about all Fires being destructive and damaging. And when you think about it, any affinity could be destructive and damaging. Tornadoes, earthquakes, and hurricanes. Hurricanes are the product of Wind and Water, the most 'harmless' elements!" she exclaimed. "A hurricane can case so much more destruction than Fire can!"

Not knowing what to say, he just nodded.

She sighed, standing up. "I can tell I'm beginning to bore you. You can head out to meet Tooth now, if you want."

"No, no, you're not boring me," he said quickly. "It's- it's just a lot to take in. All of these affinities and Atlantean stuff. Everything's just...so complicated."

"My life is complicated," she said simply as she opened the door to her room. "Comes with its perks, but at times..." She hesitated, then shook her head.

"At times, what?"

"Nothing. Just being ridiculous. You can leave now." The last sentence she said was sharp, almost impatient.

"And just when I thought that we were bonding," he teased, standing up and walking over to her.

"I've had enough of your mind for the past two years," she said flatly.

He frowned as he stopped at the doorway. "You're doing it again," he complained.

"Doing what?" she snapped.

"Becoming a grouch. Come on, don't you ever smile?" Without thinking, he reached in to pull her into a hug, which always made Tooth smile, no matter how angry she was at him. Just when his hand closed around her wrist, the world swirled around him, air flying through his hair, and before he knew it, he was on the ground with one arm pinned beneath him and the other held above his head, a crooked blade with a leather handle pressed against his throat.

Her eyes were black as coal as she crouched over him. He felt a jolt of fear when he looked into her eyes. "Don't you _ever _touch me again," Simone hissed.

"Got it," he gasped.

The darkness in her eyes suddenly faded away, to be replaced with confusion. Jack didn't know why, but he suddenly had a strong feeling that she hadn't meant to do that. She released her grip on him, and he sat upwards, rubbing the skin around his wrist. There was an awkward pause before Jack decided to say something. "Where'd you get the knife from?" he asked as he stood up.

"_Dauða_? I have an arm sheath for her." She pulled up her sleeve to show an elaborately-made sheath made out of some sort of reptilian hide wrapped around her forearm. It was tight enough so that it wouldn't bulge in her shirt. "I have one on both arms. Then I always keep one in my sock as a backup." She lifted her sweatpants' leg to show the same type of sheath around her ankle, a bone handle barely bulging out of the case.

"Let me get this straight. You keep weapons in your _socks_?"

"Yep."

"And when you go to school? Nobody notices them?" he demanded.

"Nope."

"What about when you wear short-sleeved shirts or shorts?"

"I don't wear short sleeves or shorts."

"But- what about when it get's hot? And you're sweating and you're all icky and stuff?"

"I ignore it."

"What? You don't have to carry a weapon around everywhere you go-"

"That's not the reason."

"What? Do you have really bad acne?"

"No."

"Eczema?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Wait, are you one of those girls who feel really insecure about their body and try to cover it up?"

"No- well, yes, but that's not-"

"Do you have-"

"JACK!" she shouted, and he finally shut up. She exhaled in annoyance, then lifted her shirt sleeve again, this time to the shoulder. He almost jumped back in shock. Along her bicep and the places where the sheath didn't cover up her skin, were dark jagged ridges along her skin. Raised scars covered most of her arm. They were almost disgusting to look at. Some looked as if they had taken a knife and slashed it across her arm. Most looked as if something had dug its teeth into her. "We have wars in Atlantis. Not just Pitch wants the Source," she said flatly, shaking down her sleeve, avoiding looking him in the eye. "It's our job to keep them from getting it. I don't appreciate it when I get gawked at for doing my duty."

"Oh. Well, sorry. I didn't know."

She seemed to relax a little bit, the tension in her shoulders leaving. _But so much more left, _he thought. Did she ever really relax?

Simone glanced at the window outside. The sun already under the horizon, faint streaks of orange tinging the sky pink and faint violet. "It's getting late. Come on, let me walk you to the door."

He didn't protest, and they jogged down the stairs together. Or, rather, she jogged and he slid down the banister. She opened the front door as he landed beside her, and nodded at him as he walked past the threshold. "Bye."

"Bye. Wait!"

She groaned. "What?"

"One last question?" he pleaded.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"What was that thing you said, outside of the school?"

"_Panneb le_ _nen_?" she said. The way she said it reminded him of a Native American language. "It's old Atlantean. It means 'you are knowing' or, more simply, 'you know'."

"That I know what?"

"About me," she said simply.

"Oh. Got it. Uh, hey, Simone?"

"Hmm?" She leaned against the door and crossed her arms.

"Could I come back tomorrow?"

"Why on Earth would you want to come back?"

He shrugged. "Curiosity."

Her eyes glittered. "Curiosity killed the cat, remember?"

"Well, then it's a good thing I'm a dog," he joked.

She exhaled irritably. "I'm not even gonna be here tomorrow, anyway. I go to Atlantis every weekend. I won't be back until Monday morning."

"Can I come then?"

She glanced at him, then sighed. "I guess so. I have nothing to do after school anyway."

"Then it's a date."

"No. It's not." And with that, she slammed the door in his face.

He blinked. _What was that all about? _he wondered as he walked down the steps.

_Just mind your own business and go to the statue._

* * *

This was supposed to be a longer chapter, including Tooth and Jack's visit to the magic baby doctor, but it was taking too long. Don't worry, though, it'll be in the next chapter.

*Mendocino is a small town about 155 miles North of San Francisco. Beautiful place there. If you live in California, totally recommend a vacation up there during the whale season. :D


	3. Spell-On-A-Stick

I seem to have an odd fascination with European Castles. Ah, well, the more you know, the more places you'll want to go! :D Btw: I just realized that I put the rating on T and not M, because there are some scenes in this story that are better left to the imagination. And not just in a good way. O.O

Ah, well, anyway, enjoy this short chapter while I weep in despair about how my writing skills are failing me.

* * *

"This is nice," Tooth sighed, snuggling up to Jack, resting her head on his shoulder and rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand, which was clasped over her other in between them. The golden feather tickled the side of his face. The full moon shone down a gentle beam on them as they sat in the soft green grass, only a couple yards away from the lake, or, as the French spirits called it, _Lac Daumesnil_. The two islands were beautifully illuminated by the moonlight, the temple and chalet reminding him of castles of old that even he wasn't old enough to remember.

"This is," he agreed, turning his head to her and pressed a kiss against her headdress of feathers. She giggled, then reached up to peck on him on the cheek. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her close to him, enjoying the feel of her soft, silky feathers rubbing against him.

And she was right. As soon as they had met up at the Thaddeus Burgess statue, they flew off to Paris and had fine-dining at the best supernatural restaurant in the world, _La Fleur de L'esprit_. Jack's French was a bit rusty, but he was pretty sure it meant The Flower Spirit. Which would make sense, since it was run by Amarante, the spirit of flowers in that area and- as he had heard from North- Bunnymund's last girlfriend.

Bunnymund had been going through a surplus of girlfriends, Jack had heard. All of them had been beautiful spring or- Jack had gagged at this earlier- sex-related spirits. "He's been lonely," North had defended when he had saw the look on his face. "It is good for him to go and romp while he still can. He is not young, you know."

_Right,_ Jack had thought.

Anyway, Tooth and Jack had shared a plate of delicious ambrosia (golden nuggets that tasted simply sublime) and a milkshake with two straws. As they slurped down the rest of the chocolate milkshake together, they sat on the balcony of the restaurant, watching the moon rise. Then they had flown over to the _Bois de Vincennes _and walked around the lakes a couple times. Jack had wanted to go explore the grotto and temple, but Tooth had refused, worried that either one might collapse on them. Though it wasn't nearly enough to sway Jack away from wanting to check them out, he allowed Tooth to lead him away and sit him on the grass by the water's edge, trying to keep Tooth in a good mood, and that was where they were now. Bellies full and heart content, he was confident that she was in the right mode to take her to the appointment with Brigid, which was in two hours, at three.

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you bring us here?"

"What? Did you not want to come here? I could have sworn I heard you saying that you hadn't been to Paris on a good date in forever and-"

"No, that's not what I mean. Don't get me wrong I love all of this, and I'm so glad that you brought me here, but Jack, let's be honest. You aren't really the romantic date-night type of guy. I mean, since when has your style ever been a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant and a walk around a lake against the moonlight?" she asked, tilting her head up to him.

He decided to dodge the question. "What kind of style did you expect?"

"I don't know, trying to get me into a snowball fight? Teach me some game?" She shrugged. "I'm not saying I don't like this, because I really do, but I'm just asking...why?"

_Dude, you should probably tell her. _

Jack almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Simone's voice in his head. "What?" Tooth asked, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"Nothing," he lied breezily. "Just felt a chill."

_Jack, you should tell her now, _Simone advised. _Or else she's gonna be _really _pissed when you bring her to Brigid's and she finds out just before the appointment. Take it from a fellow girl, we don't like having things like this sprung up on us at the last minute. _

He gritted his teeth, even though he knew she had a point. And a pissed-Tooth would not make this evening go well. He sighed. "Tooth...I know that it's only been a month since we...you know..." He could tell that she immediately understood, her face suddenly sober. "So, I had been wondering, for a while now, if the problem was- you know- with us. We're both centuries years old and-"

"Jack, what does that have to do with coming here?" she asked rather harshly.

He took a deep breathe. "I went to go see Brigid a couple weeks ago, and she said that she could-"

Tooth suddenly sprang away from Jack, hovering angrily in the air. "She could _what? _Suddenly make my eggs more fertile? Your-Your sperm more willing to survive?"

"Kind of, yeah." He pushed himself to his feet so he could look her in the eye. "Look, Tooth, if we could just try this one more time-" he pleaded.

"Jack, I don't WANT to try anymore! Do you know what it's like?" she hissed. "To carry something so precious and beautiful for so long, just to lose it to nature? _Again?_ No, Jack. I- I wanted to tell you this when you woke up from hibernation. I-I just can't _do _this anymore. If it happens, then I want to let happen naturally, if that's even possible. I'm not gonna let some-some _fertility_ spirit force a child into me!"

Jack had rarely seen her so angry before. Her face was splotchy and red, her tiny hands curled into fists at her sides. "Tooth, if you could just _listen_-"

"No, _you _listen, Jack Frost!" she shouted. He jumped back in surprise at the anger in her tone. "Next time you want to have a child, try carrying it yourself!"

"I actually think a couple of witch doctors in Zimbabwe could do that-"

"This isn't a _joke_, Jack!"

"And I know that." He stepped forward and took her small hands into his large ones, his fingers covering the clenched fists. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you about this, and I'm sorry for the last couple years. It's just..." He sighed, shaking his head, searching for the right words. "Look. You are the love of my life. You are everything I could ever want and more. And I guess what I was thinking earlier, when I was with Brigid was, 'I just want to have another'. Of you," he said softly.

Her filled up with tears, and before Jack knew it, she had her arms around his middle and her face crushed against his chest, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Jack," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

He was surprised by the sudden change in attitude, but put his arms around her and pulled her close. "I am, too. Look, we can forget about the appointment, and just go to my place, watch a movie or something."

"No!" She lifted her head up from his chest. Tears still trickled down from her amethyst eyes, but she had stopped crying. "No, it's...it's okay. We can go." She nodded as she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. "It's just...next time, give me a warning, okay?" she asked, smiling a little bit.

"I will," he promised, grinning, as he put his hands on her hips and leaned in. He closed his eyes, and felt her eyelash flutter against his own before their lips met. She fisted her hands in his sweatshirt, pulling him closer to her. He snaked one arm around her waist, making sure to rustle the feathers that lay in his trail, knowing how much she loved the feeling.

_Eww..._Simone's voice came, unbidden, into his mind. It was light, though, almost teasing, like a little sibling watching her older brother kiss his girlfriend. _Please. If I was your little sister, I have you in the asylum by now._ He imagined himself giving her a mental eye-roll.

Jack pulled away from Tooth, and smirked at her. "So...to Brigid's?"

She nodded. "To Brigid's."

* * *

Brigid's place had been rather difficult to find, since Irish spirits tend not to to live in one place, but all over their native country, and was also mixed up with Brigantia, her British counterpart. He had looked in hospitals and nurseries, little orphanages and even churches. Places where babies were usually found. He hadn't thought at all that she might be found at the Scottish Highlands.

"Well, she _is _supposed to be the goddess of highlands," Tooth had reminded him when he told her.

"Yeah, but she's supposed to live in _Ireland_, not Scotland," Jack had retorted. "And besides, Ireland has tons of highlands!"

Either way, they had flown from France, over the North Sea, past London, and entered the mountainous section of the United Kingdom. It was beautiful, with tall mountains, with neat little valleys in between, rivers running up and down and through the hills. The edge of each individual blade of grass on the ground gleamed in the moonlight. Trees glistened in the midnight sky's twinkle, catching moonbeams in their branches and leaves. The cattle that were left out slept peacefully underneath them as Jack and Tooth flew overhead.

"It must be so wonderful to live in a place as peaceful as this," Tooth sighed as they soared over a tiny cottage, where an old man and woman sat together on the porch, looking up contentedly into the starry sky.

"Yeah," Jack agreed.

They continued over the highlands until they reached Inverness, the city of the castle which she lived in. The city was still buzzing with cars and nighttime walkers, restaurants flashing: _Open 24-Hours_. _Another city that never sleeps, _Jack thought, thinking of New York.

Inverness Castle stood majestically above the rolling hills and tall trees. It was notably different than the Hohenzollern Castle in Germany, and for that, Jack was grateful. The last thing that him and Tooth needed were bad memories of torture and death on this trip. It was much more modest, with only one tall building poking out from the main structure and few parapet walks. _Modesty is beauty, _he reminded himself as they landed across the river from the castle.

They stood at the water's edge, staring up at the castle. "I don't understand, why does she live _here__, _of all places?" Jack exclaimed.

"Irish spirits are odd like that," Tooth replied. "They don't really stay to where they were reborn." She knelt down by the water and dipped her hand in it, letting her fingers trail in the gentle current.

"Uh, Tooth? What are you doing?"

"I've always had a strong connection with the River Ness, so I used to come every other." She sighed. "The last time I came was over a decade ago. Seems just like yesterday."

"What kept you from coming back?" he asked, leaning on his staff.

"I saw something. I followed the river down, almost to Loch Ness, and I saw something in the water."

"Probably a seal," he said without thinking.

She shook her head as she stood up. "No. Bigger. About the size of a lion or something. And it was _long_, shaped almost like a snake. But it had flippers, I could see that much. And it had glowing blue eyes, the color of the sea." She tilted her head as she struggled to recall the event. "I wasn't frightened, though. It looked at me almost...almost curiously. I reached into the water to touch it, and then it was gone."

"I guess Saint Columba never really banished their river monster, huh?" he joked. When she didn't laugh, he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. "It was probably just a dragon that escaped from Berk or something."

"Yeah," she said, though she didn't sound like she believed it. "Maybe."

_Right..._

He frowned as he heard the guilty voice in his head. He tried to speak to her in his head. _Something you wanta tell me?_

_Maybe some other time. Oh, would you look at that. It's past my bedtime. Goodnight! _

"Wait!" he called aloud without thinking.

"What?" Tooth asked.

_Crap. _"Uh, we've probably been keeping Brigid _waiting _too long. Come on, let's go!" he said quickly, taking her hand and pulling her with him across the river. She flew after him in surprise, but didn't say anything. They went over the gate and into the first open window he saw.

"Is this the right room?" Tooth as they lightly touched down on the soft carpet. It was must have been twenty feet long, and it was grand, with silk, old fashioned couches and fancy tables, with a magnificent rug laid out from where they stood to the other end of the room. Portraits that looked like they belonged to the fifteenth century hung from the walls, one of which Jack was pretty sure was Christopher Columbus.

"No. She's supposed to live in the floor above us, in the spiral tower. This way." He opened the door beside them, and held it open for her, an old, gentlemanly habit. She kissed him on the cheek, then fluttered through the doorway and up the stairs. He closed the door behind him and hurried after her, jogging instead of flying.

The stairs spiraled to a gray dungeon-like door, with the knocker and barred window on it and everything. Jack turned to Tooth, who was hovering nervously beside him. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. "I'm ready." She reached down, then twisted the knob. The door clicked open with a soft _click_, then parted from the doorway. Jack watched as she nervously pushed the door open, then followed her as she slid in through the doorway.

The room was small, but cozy. Jack looked around, wondering if anything had changed since his last visit. _Apparently not_, he thought. Green and pink silk curtains were all over the place, hanging from the ceiling and draped over the chairs and sofas. A thick, cushiony-

_How many times do I have to tell you that's not a word? _

_Shouldn't you be asleep?_

_Fine. Continue._

A thick, cushiony rug with beautifully woven, though rather graphic, pictures laid on the floor. Beaded strings and woven bands hung from the ceiling, as well as the strong scent of incense and of musk. Jack thought that was odd, but he didn't question it. His eyes scanned the sofas, then landed on a pair of scant clothing. He frowned as he bent over to examine it better, then almost jumped back in a mixture of shock and disgust. It was a pair of lacy black panties, splattered with some white liquid that looked a lot like-

"Ungh! Oh, please yes!" The sudden moan made Jack jump and Tooth squeal, though, when he looked past her, it was for a different, though not entirely unrelated, reason. Jack gasped as Tooth clasped her hands over her eyes. At the end of the room, on a small plain white bed, two bodies were moving frantically against each other. The one underneath was clutching to her lover's fur, her face contorted in pleasure as he thrusted into her. And the one on top was-

"Bunny?!" The name left his lips before he could think. Bunnymund's head lifted at the sound of his name, then shouted in surprise at the sight of his two fellow Guardians standing a few yards away. He immediately pushed himself off of the girl below him and hid behind one of the curtains.

"What in the blazes are you doing here?" he shouted.

"We had an appointment," Jack said curtly, covering Tooth's hands with his own, suddenly afraid that her own wouldn't be enough.

The girl, who Jack recognized to be Brigid, flung her long red hair out her face to squint at the two, then gasped in delight. "Jackie! Toothie! You made it!" She sat upright, smoothing down her dress over her knees and picking off rabbit fur. "I thought that, since you were late, maybe you weren't gonna come, so I decided that I would call on old Bunnymund for some company."

_It's two fifty-nine._

"It's two fifty-nine," Jack repeated.

She gave her dress a final smoothing. "Yes, well, I _thought_ you were going to be late."

"Right..."

"Right." Brigid turned to the squirming and obviously uncomfortable phooka behind the curtain. "Sorry, Bunny. Maybe some other time?"

"Yeah, sure. See ya later then, lass." Without looking at Tooth and Jack, he quickly darted out from behind the curtain, past them, and the door behind them slammed shut with a loud bang.

Brigid turned back to Jack. "I'm so sorry about that."

"No, it's okay," he said as he removed his hands from Tooth's face, the danger having passed. "Yeah, I totally get it. Two fertility spirits, Irish and Aussie, coming together on a lonely night-"

"Jack says that you think you could help us with our _problem_," Tooth said, with a look at Jack.

"Ah, yes. Jack told me about your little predicament. Now, let's see what I have to work with." She stood up and pressed her palm against Tooth's feathered stomach, and closed her eyes for a couple seconds. Then she opened her eyes and removed her hand. "You have a few good eggs left, Tooth. You'll have only this one, two if you're lucky," she warned. Tooth nodded, her face expressionless. Brigid. then turned to Jack.

He felt a sudden surge of foreboding. "Wait, what are you about to-"

Her hand shot out and grabbed at his crotch. He yelped as sharp fingers closed around his testicles, his hand instinctively reached down to push her hand away, and tried to squirm out of her grip. "For God's sake, Jack, stay still," she hissed, closing her grip on him tighter. He winced, but did she asked, and stood in soldier-position, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his balls. After what seemed like hours, she finally released him. He let out a sigh of relief, rubbing his crotch tenderly. "Your sperm count is actually doing pretty well. You have as much as a teenage boy," she commented.

"Uh, thanks?"

"But since you're a winter spirit, your sperm doesn't have much of a drive to seek and penetrate the egg as regular ones do. And even when it does enter the egg, the growing process is slow, so slow that it is one of the reasons that the fetus continues to die," she informed.

"What should we do?" Jack asked.

"I was expecting this," Brigid said as she turned to one of her dressers and began rummaging through the drawers. "Unfortunately, my supplies for increasing egg count have gone extinct, the last flower destroyed last week in the Amazon during the deforestation. And the spirits that makes the chocolate to promote winter spirit sexual desire have all been laid to rest, God bless their souls."

_If there is a God, _Simone muttered.

_Go to sleep, _Jack told her.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Tooth asked.

"Ah! Here it is!" Brigid exclaimed, holding up a long stick with green and blue streaks running from end to end. She handed it to Tooth, a grin on her face. "Spell-on-a-Stick. Every spirit's best friend. Best thing to use whenever my supplies are down. Not as reliable as the poultices and potions I could make, but the results come out just as well, if not better."

"What will it do?" Tooth inquired as she turned it over in her hands, closely examining it.

"Whatever I program it to do. This one's supposed to make your eggs ten times more receptive to sperm, making it easy to penetrate. And this-" She reached behind her, then pulled out a heart-shaped box and handed it to Jack. "-is chocolate that's supposed to increase sexual desire for anyone in general. It won't work as well as the chocolate that I had mentioned earlier, but I'm hoping you can make up for that, Toothiana," she said with a wink. Both of them blushed, Tooth's a bright pink and Jack an icy blue.

"Now, since these aren't the real thing, they may not work the first time. So I'll need you two to come back next month for some potions to go along with it."

"Why can't you make one now?" Jack asked as he opened the box. The chocolates were wrapped in a soft green gossamer, their brown shine beckoning to him.

"I can easily whip them up, but they'd take days to finish preparing and- don't eat that now!" she shrieked, smacking the chocolate that Jack had picked up out of his hand. "If you eat that now- well, let's just say I'm not into orgies."

Jack almost gagged. "Thank you, Brigid, for all you've done," Tooth said hastily, throwing Jack a glare. "How does the fifteenth sound? For our next appointment?"

"No, I have a meeting that day. The thirty-first?" she suggested.

"Yes, that would-"

"Wait, no," Jack interrupted. "That's the new moon, Tooth, remember?"

Tooth frowned, then gasped. "Oh, yes! I'm sorry, but we're occupied that day as well."

Brigid's green eyes flicked between them curiously, but she didn't probe. Jack was grateful for her self-control, not willing to explain why their new moon's were occupied. Pitch's concoction two years ago. that had changed the Guardians into their original form had lasting effects. Every new moon- the _real _new moon, where there was no moon in the sky at all- they would all revert back to their original though there was a cure for it, none of them could remember the ingredients, and none of them wanted to return to Hohenzollern Castle for the book. So now every new moon, they would make sure that they were all safe and sound at either North, Bunny, or Tooth's home, and wait out of the end of the new moon.

Sometimes, though, Jack would stay behind and hang out with Jamie, despite the warning and pleas from the other Guardians. They had been Guardians for ages. They didn't remember how it felt to be _normal_, to walk around and talk to _normal _people. Not that Jack wanted to be normal all the time; he had been Jack Frost for over three hundred years. You couldn't just shake that off. It was just nice for a change. It was almost worth being chewed out by the other Guardians.

Almost. He shuddered when he remembered how Tooth had hunted him down as soon as the new moon was over the last time he had done it.

"Okay, well then, how about the eleventh?" Brigid asked.

"That's good for me. How 'bout you?" he asked Tooth.

"Good for me, too," she confirmed.

"Great! So, same place, same time?" she asked, pushing her wild red hair out her face. Jack was briefly reminded of Merida. Now that he thought about it, they even almost had the same accent.

"Yes. Thank you so much, Brigid," Tooth said warmly.

"Anything I can do for the woman who taught how to floss," she laughed. She curtsied playfully as they waved, then flew out the open window.

"That wasn't so bad," Tooth said as they flew back over Scottish Highlands.

"Right. You weren't the one who was being groped," Jack muttered.

She glanced at him. "I thought you would have enjoyed that," she teased, though accusation tinted her tone.

"Dude, that _hurt_." He shuddered. "Why would you think I would like that?" When she didn't answer, he rolled his eyes, then reached over and pulled her to a stop. "Tooth, you are the only for me," he said solemnly. "It's gonna take a lot more than groping at my balls to make me ever look away from you."

Tooth smiled. "Thanks, Jack."

He opened his arm. "Hug?"

She laughed, and let him enclose her into his arms, minding her wings.

_Aw... _Simone teased.

_Stop being jealous._

To his surprise, she didn't reply. _Huh_. He had been so sure that she would another clever retort hidden up her sleeve, but there was nothing. _Well,_ he thought superiorly, _I showed her._

_Nice try._

_Damn it. _"So," Jack said as they pulled away, holding up the box of chocolates, "taking this back to my place?"

She giggled. Jack had the feeling that this was going to be a _very _fun night.

* * *

Audience: Spell-On-A-Stick?

Me: *Points* Screamindivr145 made me do it.

Hahahaha, but, no, seriously, he made me do it.

Curious to know if you guys would want this to be a M-rated fic. I really don't mind, either way, but I'm just curious to know whether or not _you _guys want me to. Because the reason that I write these in the first place is because of you guys. :D

Five reviews say yes, and I change this to an M-rated fic and open the next chapter with a lemon.

Five reviews say no, and this stays T-rated and I just continue on with the story.

Either way, reviews would be nice. :D


	4. Cracking the Ice

Okay, so smut and Rated M is on the go! Yay, I get to put inappropriate scenes in here! :D And, maybe, not just between Jack and Tooth? Mwahahahahaha! You guys have _no _idea what I have planned for this story! 3:D

* * *

"Tooth, again?!" Jack exclaimed as she pushed him back on to the bed. Jack's clothes laid scattered around the floor, the covers thrown over them. Tooth's feathers had retracted away from her chest down to her thighs, her breasts swaying deliciously in front of him. "This is, like, the tenth time! How many more are we gonna do this?" he protested, though there was a grin on his face.

She purred as she straddled him, pinning his hands above his head, her fingers digging into his wrists. He gasped as she rested herself against his soft dick, the wet sensation of her pussy lips making it throb. "As many times as it takes." She moaned as she rubbed her dripping slit along his shaft. He bit his lip as he struggled to have more self-control than the sex-machine in his lap. "Fuck, Jack. I can't help it. You're just making me so fucking _horny._"

"Yeah, I can- ah!- tell!" he gasped as she grinded herself against his pelvis, making his dick jump again. "Fuck! Tooth!"

"I want you," she panted, steadily increasing pace. He groaned, arching his back. "I want you so badly. Please- please get hard for me," she pleaded. "I need you- I need you so badly!"

"Okay, okay. J-Just hand me one of the chocolates and-"

"No." There was a glint in her amethyst eyes. "We're going to do this _without _the chocolate."

He raised an eyebrow. He was pretty worn out from the last nine times; a simple grab of his cock wouldn't quite work anymore. She released his hands from above, then began to slide down his body, trailing soft kisses down his neck and chest, erecting soft moans from his lips. "Tooth," he gasped, sitting up as she nibbled at his navel. "Tooth, wait, what are you about to-" Suddenly, the head of his shaft was in the cavern of her sweet, sweet mouth. He cried out, bucking at the sweet sensations. "Tooth!"

She looked up at him and blinked innocently at him, though her eyes and face were flushed with lust. Without breaking eye-contact, she slowly began to move down, enveloping more of his length into her mouth until her nose touched his hairless crotch. He gasped at the feeling, scrabbling against the bed for purchase. She began to slide back, until her lips only covered the head. He gripped the sheets that still remained on his bed tightly between his fingers as she repeated the motion, then began bobbing her head up and down his cock. His voice became raspy, trying to keep himself from becoming too vocal.

Without a warning, he felt a strong sucking sensation, and he cried out, flopping on to his back. "Tooth!" She sucked harder, her hand sliding up and down the part below her lips. He cried out again, throwing his head back. "Fuck!" She didn't stop, though, until she had brought him up to full length, then slid off of him with a vulgar 'pop'.

He propped himself up on his elbows and watched her with wide eyes as she sat up, a bit of pre-cum and saliva dripping from her mouth. She licked her lips hungrily, then began to crawl on to his now fully-erect cock. She gently lifted it up from where it was tickling his belly-button, and gave it a soft kiss. "Tooth," he said shakily as she slid herself down on to him with a loud moan, "you are something else, you know that?"

"I'm glad," she panted as she began to roll her hips. She began to lean over, so that her hands were positioned on each side of his head, and leaned down to place a kiss on his lips. "Because then, there's nobody else to steal you away from me."

He grinned as he sat all the way up and put his hands on her hips, and kissed her on her face, where skin met feathers. "Please. As if you have any competition," he whispered in her ear, then slammed her down on to him. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. "What? Too much?" he breathed, nibbling at her ear as he raised her up, then slammed her back down, making her scream again.

"No! More, more!" She began bouncing on him enthusiastically, bringing her body back down on to him without any help. "I want more, Jack! So much more!"

"Then take more," he hissed in her ear. "Take _me._"

She pushed him back on to the bed, hands pressing on to his shoulders, then began to furiously fuck herself on his dick. "Talk dirty to me, Jack, talk dirty to me," she gasped, her pupils eclipsing her irises.

"You're so dirty," he groaned. "Look at you. Fucking yourself on my dick."

"Yes," she moaned, increasing speed.

"You keep on bouncing on my cock. You love cock, don't you? Tell me how much you love my cock."

"I love it, Jack!" she cried. "I love it so much!" Her hips began slamming against his so hard he was worried that they might break.

"Tell me what it feels like. Tell what it feels like to have my cock speared up your soaking wet cunt."

"It's so big," she moaned. "Fuck, it's so big. It's so cold, you're so cold, Jack, but I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it! Take me, Jack, take me!"

Without any hesitation, he grabbed her hip and began to thrust his hips up as fast as he could, ramming it into her soaking wet slit. She screamed in pleasure as he pierced her spot over and over again, pounding her fists into his bed and moaning. Suddenly, she began to scrabble against him. "I'm coming, Jack! I'm-" She broke off with a cry of release as she clung to him, her juices flooding around him. He arched his back as her insides seemed to milk his cock, squeezing everything in him out. He immediately released inside her, gasping as the hot rush swept through him and seemed to toss him up into the stars.

She collapsed on to him, seemingly spent, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing the inside of her neck and her cheek before making the both of them sit up. "That was fun," he sighed, brushing some of the fallen feathers off of his bed.

Her eyes glinted. "Who says it's over?"

* * *

Jack whistled as he strolled down Simone's street on Monday evening, staff over his shoulder. The birds chirped and tweeted above him, flying from tree to tree above him. The sky was bright and clear. He couldn't help but eagerly anticipate the meeting with Simone; he had come up with a whole list of new questions over the weekend about Atlantis and its inhabitants.

When, of course, he was not being preoccupied by Tooth. She had left early this morning, probably embarrassed about the way she had acted during their sessions. The chocolates were almost gone now, and he had to wash his clothes and the bedspreads in the pond _twice. _She just hadn't been able to stop, and by Sunday, he had barely any strength left, while she was _still_ begging for more. He was still aching _down there _and there were little scratches all down his back and stomach. It wasn't that he didn't _like _it, it's just that it seemed like he didn't have the energy to fully enjoy it. If the next couple months were going to be like this...

He shook his head, laughing to himself, as he walked up the front steps to Simone's house. School had let out almost an hour ago, so she should be home by now. He was about to knock on the door when he spotted a small scrap of paper taped above the peephole, his name written at the top in a curly cursive. He carefully took it off and put it to his eyes to read.

_Jack-_

_The door is open. _

_-Simone_

"Okay then," he said as he stuffed it into his pocket and pushed open the door. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The sun rays coming from the skylights were shining down on the hallway in front of him like a ray of heaven, little flecks of dust spiraling in the light. "Simone?" he called as he walked inside, but nobody answered. Jack jogged over to the archway to the living room, then the kitchen, but she wasn't in either. He was about to call out her name again when he heard the soft sound of piano trickling down from the upstairs.

He glanced up as he walked to the base of the stairs, and squinted past the bright light. "Simone?" he called again. No reply. He sighed, and began to jog up the stairs. He past the second floor, a bit in mild surprise. _What, did you think she kept a piano in her room? _he scolded himself as he came to the third floor. Two huge, polished wood doors stood at the entrance to the landing, one slightly ajar.

_Déjà vu_, Jack thought as he quietly slipped through the crack between the doorway and the door. It was a grand ballroom, with a hard polished floor and a stage at the opposite end. There were mirrors along the right wall until the tan carpet that covered one fourth of the floor met the stage. A couple of high rises rested against the back wall, with stands and open instrument cases on the rests.

Simone was playing on the piano just below the stage, her fingers gracefully gliding across the keys. The song she was playing was soft, tender. What was it called? Adiago, or something like that? Whatever it was, it sounded lovely. But...sad, at the same time. A special kind of sadness. Jack tilted his head to the side as he tried to put his finger on it. Then there was a certain hesitancy that she added that just made it seem more beautiful. She was murmuring to herself, he noticed, as she played. Her lips, full and wide, would purse for a second, then began to move again.

"You know, last time I could hear you," Jack called.

She jumped violently in her seat at the sound of his voice. "Jack!" she exclaimed in surprise, hastily shutting the piano. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, then was cut off by a hacking cough. _Ah, the woes of flu season, _he thought, he himself feeling a dull pain in his chest.

"The one and only," he said cheerfully as he crossed the ballroom, swinging his staff on to his shoulder. "Did you forget about our date?"

"It's not a date," she muttered.

He stopped in front of her. The carpet was cool and soft beneath his feet. "Whatcha playing there?"

She looked away and shook her head. "Nothing. Just...messing around."

"Do you play piano?" he asked, then mentally cursed himself for asking such an obvious question.

To his surprise, though, she shook her head again. She seemed rather uncomfortable today, avoiding his gaze and speaking quietly. "I don't really have time to learn how to play-"

"Liar. I saw you playing on Friday, remember?" he reminded her.

"Crab," she muttered, turning back to the keyboard, then started to cough again, her body convulsing with each hack.

"And besides, whatever you were playing doesn't sound like you were just _messing around_," he added once she was done, then spotted several sheets of paper resting against the music rack. Her eyes followed his gaze, then widened. Before she could snatch them away, he grabbed them and darted away as she clawed at him.

"Jack!" she cried, her voice raspy from the last bout of coughing.

"What?" he said innocently.

She gritted her teeth. "Give them back. _Now_."

"Why don't you want me to see?" he challenged.

"Why do you want to know?" she shot back.

"Because you have a gift, and you're trying to hide it, which, in my opinion, you're not really doing so well," he added as he sat on the piano lid, laying his staff across his lap. He ignored her glare as he shuffled through her papers, and began to read the first one, which was a hand-written music sheet, with rests and everything. "Did you write this?" he asked.

She shook her head, a-hemming to get rid of the tickle in her throat. "No. I was just-" She abruptly cut off, and looked away hastily again.

"You were just doing what?" he pressed.

Simone sighed, resting the left side of her face in her palm. "I couldn't get the music sheets for the song, so I had to use my ears. And the reason why I was trying to get the music sheets is because I was trying to write lyrics to it."

"Really? How are they turning out?" he asked, already slightly impressed by the fact that she had been able to play by the ear _and _write it down. Okay, maybe not slightly impressed.

"Why don't you just look?" she asked wearily. Surprised by the lack of fight in her voice, Jack studied her face. She didn't seem irritated or upset; if anything, she looked tired. The half-moons under her eyes made her face seem gaunt, her eyes themselves half-lidded. Under her thick eyelashes, they were a sleepy blue color. "Yes, I realize I look sleepy," she said wryly.

"You look sick," he said without thinking.

Her head jerked up, her eyes flashing. Jack barely managed to keep himself from flinching away. But all she said was, "You should be careful with what you say, Jack."

He swallowed hard. "Right. So...do you think you could play for me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Don't you play piano?"

"Yeah, but I don't know the song as well as you do. If I hear it together-" He shrugged-"maybe I can tell you whether or not it sounds good as a song. With lyrics, that is."

She squinted suspiciously at him. "Are you just trying to hear me sing again?"

"No, but now that you mention it, I would like to hear you sing."

Simone snorted as she sat up straight and pushed the fall back up. "Why would you want to hear _me_ sing? I sound like crap, especially now."

He frowned. She sounded great when she sang! "Says who?" he demanded.

Her mouth opened to reply, then thought about it, and shrugged. "No one, I guess. Nobody's heard me sing except for you. Not since I was six, anyway."

"Why not?"

"Look, do you want to hear the song or not?"

"Sheesh, sorry for asking," he muttered as he handed the sheets to her. She didn't reply as she rustled the papers into place, then laid her fingers on the beginning notes, something that he often did before starting a song. She cleared her throat, the tickle still very much present, then, as soon as her fingers pressed against the white and back keys, she began.

"_It's__ time to say good-bye...  
__As we part from our lives...  
__It's time to say good-bye..._"

Her voice was soft and tender, leaving off on a breathy note at the end of each sentence. He noticed that, during the full rests in between each line, her hands would slightly arch upward, the fingers curling beneath her palm for a split second before playing the same melody again. She took a deep breath, then began to play in full, the room bursting into sound.

"_Our journey's been long as we  
Traveled together.  
But our time has gone, we can't  
Stay here forever_—  
_T__hough we try,_

_And we continue to think that we could  
Be with each other  
But we can't hold on to  
Whatever we used to have  
Anymore _—_ anymore.  
We can't hold on to each other  
Anymore _—_ this is our farewell..._"

She sighed as she tilted her head to the side, then began to play the same melody from the beginning.

"_It's time to say good-bye...__.  
__As we part from our lives...  
__It's time to say good-bye..._"

For a second, Jack wondered why she had repeated the same words from the beginning. Not that it was bad or anything, but couldn't she have found some other words to go along with it? Then he realized that she was trying to match the song, and in the special parts of the song so far, they were repetitive. _Smart, _he praised. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch, as if she was holding back a smile. She began to play the full part again, her voice soft as the song,

"_We've always been there to  
Protect each other.  
Always have strived to be  
There for one another_—  
_Though we fail._

_And I can't bear to think about_  
_The road's futures failures,_  
_And I know we'll both weep when we're_  
_No longer together._  
_But we must__— yes, we must.  
__We can't hold on forever  
__To the past — this is our farewell..._"

The pace of the piano playing began to pick up, steadily sounding more tragic and sorrowful as the pitch went higher, while Simone's voice began to sound deeper, beautifully balancing out the sound.

"_You must believe me,  
I've tried so hard to see  
Another path than what's been laid down at our feet.  
Just that when you go,  
I hope you'll always know  
That deep down inside my heart, you'll always be there, so  
Please...don't cry..._"

Her voice was now barely a whisper. She took a deep, shuddering breath, as if she was trying to hold back tears herself, then began to play the same short melody from the beginning.

"_It's time to say good-bye..._  
_I promised myself I wouldn't cry..._"

She choked on the last word, and for a split second, Jack thought she really was crying. But he felt no emotion from her, or, at least, any strong ones. And when she sat up, her eyes were clear, face expressionless. She began to play softer, in the same, short, hesitant way that she had with the beginning melody.

"_Our journey's been long as we_  
_Traveled together._  
_But our time has gone, we can't_  
_Stay here..._

_We used to think that we could_  
_Be with each other,_  
_But we can no longer hold on to_  
_Whatever we used to have..._"

The pitch began to hit the high notes again, and once more, her voice countered the sound.

"_We can't go back to how things used to be,  
Yet we can't convince ourselves of the truth...  
But I think we should at least see  
How there's no longer a 'me and you'._"

_MiM, this song is depressing, _Jack thought. The music and lyrics were great, it's just...there seemed to be no happiness **at all**. Honestly, couldn't there be a small memoir, about how they loved walking along the beach or something? The room burst back into full sound, the heart-breaking melody bouncing off of the walls.

"_Our journey's been long as we_  
_Traveled together._  
_But our time has gone, we can't_  
_Stay here forever  
__—__Though we try,_

_And we continued to think that we could  
Be with each other  
But we can't hold on to  
Whatever we used to have..._"

The pace slowed, and she was playing and singing softly again, though he could tell that she was straining not to crack on any of the words, the song obviously better suited for a soprano. For an alto, though, she was doing great._  
_

"_This is our farewell...  
__So now I say, 'Farewell...' _"

She sighed as she slid her fingers off of the keyboard. "I can't think of anything after that."

Jack tilted his head to the side. "How does it go?"

Simone sucked air into her left cheek and looked up, eyes narrowed as she thought, then began to play a tune similar from the beginning, though it had a slightly more upbeat sound to it. _Finally! _Jack thought. He leaned over and snatched a pen from the pencil cup on the piano, and pulled the sheet with the lyrics on it towards him. She put her elbow on the keyboard and rested her cheek against her palm as she watched him, mild interest in her eyes. "Okay, so forgive me if I'm not Edgar Allen Poe or whatever-" he said as he began to jot down the first few lines that came to him.

"Edgar Allen Poe didn't write song lyrics," she interrupted. "John Lennon, on the other hand did. So did Barry Gibb, from the Bee-Gees. And Elton John, who made that cover of Can You Feel the Love Tonight from The Lion King."

"How do you know all this?" Jack asked in amazement as he set down his pen and slid the paper back into the music stand.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "You see stuff on the Internet and in books, and sometimes they just...stick in your brain." She shrugged again, then leaned over to squint at the newly-added lyrics. "Dude, are you serious?" she asked in disbelief as she leaned back.

"Come on, just try them."

"But- they're so cheesy!" she protested.

"Just give them a chance," he pleaded.

She groaned, but slid her elbow off of the keys, and played the ending piece again.

"_I know it's been hard, but  
Always remember:  
I'll be in your heart  
Until there's another.  
Another who can say,  
'Hello'."_

She glared at him when she finished. He grinned widely at her. "So...?"

"They're still cheesy," she said flatly.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, but hey- you can't just have an entirely depressing song. That just makes people even more depressed."

"And? I'd be depressed all the time if I had to live in this world all of my life."

"Wait, I thought you were," he teased.

She snorted. "I wonder how you would look on the carpet as a melted icicle," she said scathingly.

"I would look _hot_."

She groaned, the keys jangling noisily as she smashed her face into the keyboard. "How in Neptune's name, out of all of the idiots and dunderheads out there, did I get stuck with _you?_"

"Ouch, that actually hurt. Okay, new topic!" he declared, sensing the barbs ready to be flung from the tip of her tongue. "What other instruments do you play?"

"Well," she said as she closed the lid, "I play the flute- all kinds- and the clarinet, as well as the saxophone and trumpet. And all of your classic American string instruments, including the violin and the guitar, though I do play some of the more ethnic ones, like the lyre and the _erhu_. And every single one for about twelve to thirteen years," she added, though there was little pride in her tone.

Jack's head was spinning. How in the world could you learn to play over ten instrumentsin less than two decades? "I have a lot of freetime," she explained almost apologetically.

"You don't say," he said wryly. "So, which one's your favorite? Instrument, that is."

She tilted her head to the side as she thought. "The cello," she answered finally. "And after that, the bass."

"Guitar?"

"No, violin."

"They have a bass violin?"

"Yeah. You don't know?" she asked in surprise. He shook his head. "It's the biggest one in an orchestra, and the biggest string instrument if I'm correct. I learned how to play the bass guitar from playing the bass violin."

"How?" he asked, interested.

"The notes are almost identical. It's just how you play them that's different." She began to rap her fingers on the smooth polished wood of the piano, still coughing softly to herself. "I like the cello and the double bass for the same reasons. They both produce slightly low-sounding, but beautiful music. You don't have to sound angelic to sound beautiful." Jack nodded in agreement, thinking about the contrast in Simone and Tooth's voices. "The only reason why I like the cello more is that, with the bass, you're basically just playing the same notes over and over again. Plus, the cello is just easier to play."

"Really? Think you could play something for me, then?"

She hesitated, then shrugged as she slid off of the piano chair. "Sure, I don't see why not." As she pushed herself on to the stage and pulled down one of the cases on the rises, she added, "I actually have a song in mind, but I kind of need your help."

He put his staff over his shoulder, then slid off of the piano and hopped on to the stage. "What kind of help?" he asked suspiciously as he walked over to her.

"You're just playing the piano," she assured him as she slid a small rock wrapped in a small handkerchief up and down the strings of the bow until they began to squeak. She laid down the rock and bow, then pulled out a bunch of printed music sheets from a compartment in the case and handed it to him. "Don't worry, you'll be playing the same thing over and over again," she promised as she walked over to the closet door on the other side of the stage.

"And you'll be?" he asked as he glanced over the notes. Yep, he seemed to be playing the same piece over and over again.

"Producing wonderful and talented music," she replied as she carried down the cello case and a folding chair down to a couple yards away from the piano. She reopened the case and propped up the cello in between in her legs, the bow resting on her thigh and the scroll on the side of her face. As she tune her instrument, she said, "I'm kind of praying you'll get the tempo right on the first try."

"Nah, I think I got it." He set down his staff behind the stool, then propped the music sheet up, and squinted at the paper. "_Ruska. _By Apocalyptica. Huh. Never heard of them." He then glanced over at her. "Don't you need a music sheet, too?"

She shook her head as she plucked experimentally at the strings. "I've been practicing this song for about four years, so I got this pretty much memorized."

"Even the words?"

She frowned. "There aren't any words." _Of course not_, he thought. She coughed into her elbow a few times before she rested her bow against the strings. "You ready?" He nodded, his fingers in place. "Okay. Five, four, three, two-"

They began to play at the same time. Jack suddenly realized how fast his fingers had to actually move. Then Simone, with a smug look on her face- even though she wasn't smiling- was playing nice and slow notes. Her bow slid gracefully across the strings, her fingers slipping from one string to the next. For the first few seconds, all he could hear, though, was the sound of the piano, the cello more so of a background noise if anything. Then, suddenly, the cello became louder, with short burst of melodious sounds, ringing and trembling. Before Jack knew it, _he _had become the background music.

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she performed the treble as they reached the refrain. Something in him said that she was trying not to make sure that she wouldn't crack.

_Dude, I'm sorry, but you keep on analyzing me playing and that's making me nervous. Couldn't you just listen to the song? I'm sorry if I'm being rude, but I'm afraid that I won't play properly._

_Hmm? Oh sure, no problem. Hey, I'm starting to get the hang of this telepathy thing!_

_Jack, pay attention to your work._

_Sorry, got it. _He turned back to the piano, and tried to hone in on just the music. It sounded slightly hurried, fast-paced. Suddenly, they hit the chorus, and it suddenly became something slow and mysterious, even though Jack was still playing at a quick rate. But the way she played the cello...Jack suddenly understood why the song didn't have any words. Her notes _were_ the words.

And then they were back at the verse. Simone was sliding her bow up and down the strings, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she sang through the instrument.

_Wow, that's poetic of you._

_Why thank you._

The song was beginning to sound ominous, though, when they reached the chorus again. Jack didn't know why, but it was just something about the added notes that made the mood seem slightly more dark than when they had started.

Jack sneaked a quick glance at Simone at the third verse, then, without found himself unable to look away. She was playing with her eyes close- nothing too unusual there- but the way her face was so relax, all of the tension drained out of them. She almost looked asleep, her fingers and arm the only sign that she was awake as she played. He was in a trance; he couldn't look away. His fingers played on, having memorized the entire piece(not that it was hard), as he watched her.

When they hit the chorus, sadness entered the song and her face, though maybe her face was always like that, he wasn't sure. She always seemed to have a scowl on her face, if any expression at all. She let out a small sigh as she played the finishing note, and opened her eyes. Jack hastily looked away, and cleared his throat as he shut the keyboard. "That was a...unusual song."

She shrugged as she pulled the case to her with her foot and began to put everything away. "Apocalyptica usually makes unusual songs. It comes with playing mainly electric cellos. But you can't deny it wasn't good."

"I never said it wasn't," he protest as he swiveled around to face her. She clicked the locks in place, then glanced up at him. Amusement seemed to glitter in her greenish-blue eyes, although the corners of her mouth were still.

She glanced outside the window. "It's going to storm," she commented.

He frowned as he craned his neck around the piano. "It was clear when I came in," he protested. But she was right; storm clouds were gathering on the horizon, gray and black clouds already streaking the sky.

"So, what are you and Tooth up to tonight?" Simone asked slyly, sliding the case under the chair. "As far as I can tell, you two seemed to have _quite_ the weekend."

An ice-blue blue frosted over his cheeks. Trying not to be outdone, he replied, "Yeah, it was fun. Wanta hear the details?"

"No thank you. My mind's scarred enough." She hesitated, then asked, "How long do you think you'll be staying?"

He shrugged. "As long as you want me to."

"I don't want you to be here. But, since you are here, we might as well go downstairs." She extended a hand to him, and he stared at it. "It's called a helping hand," she said impatiently.

"Oh." Feeling silly, he took her hand, and, with a rather strong yank that made him stumble beside her, she pulled him up. "So, what are we doing?" he asked as they walked down the stairs. He noticed the line of locked doors on the second floor, and expected Simone to walk away on to one of them, show him around or something, but she just continued down the stairs.

She shrugged as they passed the second landing, then coughed into her sweatshirt. _Man, she must be really sick, _Jack thought. "I doubt anything I like to do would interest you."

"What do you like to do?"

"Like I said, nothing that would interest you," she said shortly.

He rolled his eyes, then an idea popped into his head. His arm shot out in front of her, cutting her off from the step off of the landing between the first and second floor, then turned to her. "How about we play a game?"

"Jigsaw wanted to play a game. Look at how that turned out," she said flatly, resting against the wall and crossing her arms.

"Well, this is different," he chuckled. "My game doesn't include torture. I'm just gonna guess ten things that you like to do. If I get more than half of them wrong, I have to leave. If I get more than half right, then _you_ have to make me one of your delicious mugs of hot chocolate."

"That still sounds like torture to me. And you're making me very uncomfortable."

He frowned, though he could feel the emotion just rolling off of her like fog on the beach. "How?"

She pointed at his arm, which was positioned right above her shoulder. "Guys usually do that when they're flirting."

"And you don't like being flirted with?" he teased, leaning in.

She wrinkled her nose. "If you like a person-" Without a warning, she ducked underneath his arm and began jogging down the stairs- "you should just say it," she called over her shoulder. He rolled his eyes as he removed his hand and followed her down. "Besides," she said as she went into the kitchen, "_you _already have a girlfriend. Happily together, or so I thought." She hopped on to the counter next to the seat, and pulled her ponytail over her shoulder to play the ends of her hair.

"Look, what's the harm in trying?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pocket.

Simone glanced up at him, then sighed. "Fine. Shoot."

"Okay. Playing instruments?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like _that_ isn't a no-brainer."

"Cooking?" he guessed.

"Nope."

"Gardening?"

"Nope."

"Dancing?"

"No." She hesitated. "I don't know how to dance."

"I could teach you," he offered.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Next question."

He remembered the bookcases in her room from Friday. "Reading?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Singing?"

"No, yodeling," she said sarcastically. "Next?"

"Uh...writing?" She nodded. "Drawing? Or sketching?"

She began to play with the ends of her hair again, avoiding his gaze, nervousness coming off of her in waves again. "I used to. But then I realized I was no good at it."

"Does that count as a yes or no?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yes, I guess."

"Okay. So that's, what- six, seven questions?"

"Eight. Three no's, five yeses."

"Okay. Do you like..." He scratched his snow-white hair, beginning to run out of ideas. Maybe he should have done five questions instead of ten. "I dunno, horseback-riding?" he suggested. To his surprise, she nodded. "Playing with animals in general?"

She threw her hands up. "You can have your cup of hot chocolate!" she exclaimed, hopping off.

He punched his fist into the air. "Yes! Score!"

Though she rolled her eyes at him, he felt a little bit of gratification from her, and a mild enjoyment at his eagerness for her drink. As she pulled out a mug with little snowflakes and a jar full of cocoa powder, she began to talk. "You know, I don't remember you ever drinking the cup from Friday."

"You don't remember a lot of things. I drank the whole thing down."

"Yeah, after blistering your tongue," she reminded him as she put the copper kettle on to one of the stove burners.

"So you _do _remember."

"I remember my tongue feeling like it had been burnt off. Which I do not appreciate, by the way," she added as she shook some cocoa into the empty mug.

"Whoops. Sorry."

"No problem." The kettle began to whistle, and she poured the steaming water into the mug. She poured in some sugar and began to stir. "Could you open the refrigerator and grab me the milk?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure." He turned around and pulled open the big, shiny black fridge. A gallon of milk sat on the top shelf. He grabbed it by the handle and passed it to Simone.

"Thank you," she chirped as she splashed some into the cup, then handed it back. He put it back on the shelf, and was about to close it when she exclaimed, "Don't close it yet! Pass me the whipped cream before you shut the door. It's on the rack on the left side." He immediately spotted it, and tossed her the can. She caught it with her left hand, her right having never stopped stirring since she had begun. He felt a sharp pain on the side of her face as she bit the inside of her cheek as she sprayed a swirl on top of the hot chocolate. "There!" she exclaimed as she put- no, _slammed_ the can on the marble counter.

He grinned as he set his staff against the fridge and slipped up his sleeves above his fingers, then took the mug, and lifted it to his lips. He almost moaned as the creamy goodness slid down his throat, she had managed to put in the right amount of- amount of _everything_.

"Glad you like it," she said dryly.

Jack glanced at Simone. "Was that a _chuckle _I heard?"

"In your dreams."

"Come on, don't you ever lighten up?" he demanded before taking another gulp.

"I'm pyrokinetic, aren't I?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Would it hurt to at least _pretend_ you're having fun? I haven't seen you smile in, what, two years? More?"

"And?"

Jack got an idea. He lifted his right hand, and produced a tiny snowflake on his middle finger, then grinned. "Maybe this will work." He flicked it at her. She watched it with narrow eyes as it swirled unpredictably towards her. Then, just when it was about to land on her nose, she lifted her head and exhaled a breath of fire at the snowflake. It immediately melted on to the decorative tiled floor. He stared at the puddle of water on the floor, then at her.

"Like I said," Simone said, "I'm pyrokinetic."

He groaned, slapping a hand over his face. "Out of all the times for you to get a sense of humor, you choose now?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Jack gaped at her, then just decided to just distract himself with downing his hot chocolate, the beverage having cooled down by now. He didn't know what irritated him more; how honestly she answered, or how sincere she looked when she said it. Actually, there was a lot of things about her that set him off. She would say things with the uttermost sincerity out of the blue, like how she helped him up upstairs. Not to mention the fact that she was just so..._serious_. Sometimes the words she'd say could be taken for a joke, but her whole face and tone were expressionless, with the occasional scowl or exasperated face. Plus, who could go more than ten minutes with him without so much as a smile?

_Me._

Sighing, he glanced outside. From beyond the storm clouds, which were now covering up most of the sky, he could tell that the sun was beginning to set. "That was fast," he commented as he set down his empty mug.

She peered over at his cup. "You drank all of it that quickly?" she said in disbelief.

He shrugged. "And like I told you, it's good." Simone raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't reply. "Well, I better get going. It's getting late, and I have a long day tomorrow. I plan to give a few vacation spots an unexpected snowing," he grinned.

"Okay. Have-" Just as she was turning away from him, she doubled over, coughing harshly.

Instinctively, he jumped over to her side, a hand on her back. She flinched violently away from him, slamming against the counter with a hard _crack_, a hand over her mouth as she struggled to control her coughing. "Don't -touch me!" she rasped in between coughs.

"Simone, are you okay?"

She waved him away with her free arm. "Just go! I'll be-" Another round of hacking wracked through her body, leaving her on her hands and feet. Just as he was about to kneel down beside her, to help her up or something, something red and shiny splattered on to the tiled ground. At first, Jack thought it had been something stuck in her throat, the substance too globbed up to be blood. But then he saw it slide across the floor, almost like bloody mucus or something.

She groaned as she rolled on to her behind, a hand over her chest as a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. "Could you pass me a paper towel?" she croaked.

"Of course." He reached over to the counter and yanked off a couple sheets, then knelt down and handed it to her.

She broke them off piece by piece, then began to wipe up the mess on the floor. With the spares, she dabbed away the blood from her mouth. "Thanks," she sighed as she tossed the scraps into the open trashcan, then pushed herself up to her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just forgot to take my medication," she sighed, smoothing the escaped wisps of hair back away from her face.

"Medication for what?"

"I have tuberculosis," she replied as she turned around and opened one of the cabinets. Little medicine bottles and First Aid kits completely dominated the shelves. She reached into the back and pulled out a bluish-grey -the same color as her eyes- bottle."I was supposed to earlier today, but I wanted to finish up the song on the piano," she explained as she pulled down a cup from the cabinet beside and put it under the water faucet on the outside of the refrigerator, "but you coming here made me forget." She slid a couple pills out from the bottle into her hand and popped them into her mouth. "Not that it's your fault," she added before downing half the glass of water. "I should have taken it first, then finished the poem." She sighed as she put the bottle back and closed the cabinet. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be leaving?"

"I thought you could get rid of the tuberculosis infection," he said suspiciously. He didn't know why he was being suddenly so suspicious, though maybe because she had seemed fine on Friday.

"Mine's recurrent. I'm on this new program where I have to take four different antibiotics a day for about two years." She turned around and began to sip at the remainder of her water. "Hopefully it'll work this time."

Jack began to feel the slow, dull burn in his chest that he had felt earlier slowly fade away. "I guess that means it's going away," he said, touching two fingers to his chest.

"It's only for a while," she sighed, slumping against the counter. Her whole body seemed to sag, though maybe it was because of the too-large sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants she was wearing. "It always comes back in the end."

"How long have you had it?" he asked curiously.

"As long as I can remember. Or, rather, I remember always having a cough when I was younger." She glanced outside the window. "You better get going. You have a long day tomorrow, don't you?"

Jack actually wanted to stay and make sure that she was going to be alright, but her firm tone made it clear that she didn't want him to be here any longer than need be. So he simply picked up his staff, and was about to leave when it suddenly hit him: _She's acting the same way I did when Pitch attacked me. _The fatigue, the coughing, the refusal for touch. He was pretty sure that nobody could touch her, having already been flipped on to his back and a knife pressed against his throat when trying to hug her. _Or maybe, _a voice said in his mind, _she became like that so it wouldn't happen again. So she wouldn't be helpless._

"Something up?" Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was looking at him almost in concern.

He hesitated. She had a legitimate reason for her fatigued looks. And why on Earth would someone torture her? But then...she had jumped away from him as if he had offered her a dead baby when he had been trying to help her.

"Jack?" she asked, alarm in her voice now.

"Were- were you just in my head?" he asked, wondering if she knew what he was thinking about.

She shook her head. "It looked like you were thinking about something that wasn't my business."

"Okay." He hesitated again, then, plucking up his courage, asked, "You know I'm here for you, right? You're not alone anymore. You can always talk to me if- if you don't think you have anyone to talk to."

Her eyes widened slightly at his little declaration, then narrowed again. "I don't know what made you think I didn't know that already. I've told you all the important things, haven't I?"

He looked at her levelly, and thought about all the closed doors in the house, and how the same seemed to apply behind the smoky blue-green irises. He answered in the most calmest and honest voice he could manage, "No. No, I don't think you have."

She closed her eyes, the long eyelashes smashing in with each other. "You should leave now," she said quietly.

He couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Jack groaned as he collapsed on to his bed, his staff clattering to the floor beside him. The winds outside roared with the storm, the trees whipping at the outside of the house. What had he been thinking?! He had scared her off, and now she was probably never going to let him back into her house! And he had completely forgotten to ask her all of his new questions about Atlantis. All in all, this day had been a total bust.

He thought about that as he rolled on to his back, staring up at the ceiling. No, no that wasn't completely true. He had learned about her, and some pretty key things. She had some wicked writing skills, for one, and a talented multi-instrumentalist. And he had helped her finish her poem, and they had played a song together. The songs themselves were pretty great, showing that she had a pretty fair taste in music. And he had learned a bit about the things she liked, and a few things that she would like to do. So maybe the day wasn't a complete bust after all.

Suddenly, he heard shuffling by his door. Frowning, he sat up, then laughed when he saw who it was. The snowy-white cat was in the middle of his doorway, watching him with wide blue eyes. She was drenched from the rain outside. "You never do give up, do you?" he said in amusement. She meowed in reply, her shoulders moving as if she was shrugging. He tilted his head to the side. "Do you have anywhere else to stay?" he asked, even though it felt silly to be talking to a cat. But something inside him told him that she could understand every word he was saying.

She shook her head, meowing softly. He guessed that he should have figured that out for himself, seeing the leaves from outside having fallen in her soaked coat, although she wasn't thin, like most alley cats. Maybe she hunted in the woods. _Woods means fleas_, a voice reminded him.

_Please, I have no blood to be sucked, _he scoffed. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed, and patted the spot beside him. "You can stay, but only until the storm lets up," he said sternly. She mewed happily, almost like a kitten, and hopped on to the bed next to him, and began to rub herself on to his side, purring. He chuckled, and picked out all the leaves in her fur before scratching the spot between her ears, not minding the wetness of her fur.

She mewed again, tucking her legs in and sitting straight up, though she still rested her head on his side. He felt a strange sort tenderness for her, and began to stroke the side of her face. She closed her eyes, the purr in her chest making her whole body vibrate and rock back and forth. "Where did you come from?" he whispered.

Of course, she didn't answer. She just kept on purring, then she stiffened. Suddenly, she sneezed. It was a cute, adorable sound, and Jack chuckled. "Sorry. I forget it must be freezing in here. Come on, there's a fireplace in the living room." He stood up and patted his leg, then mentally cursed himself. _She's not a dog, she's a cat, _he scolded himself.

But to his surprise, she got up and jumped off the bed and stood by his leg. He stared at her, then, without knowing why, laughed. She meowed indignantly. "No, no it's not you," he assured her, bending down to give her a quick scratch. "Come on." She padded alongside him as he led her through the hall to the living room. It was modest, with a fluffy couch with random covers crossed over it, a nightstand with a lamp on it, and a flat-screen TV above the fireplace, nothing as fancy as Simone's place. But it was home.

As soon as he finished setting up the fire, he turned to the cat, who was still sitting patiently right behind him. "You go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'll try and see if I can get you any food. What do you like again?" She meowed plaintively. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You're a cat." She looked at him, as if saying, _And?_

He went into the kitchen, and tried to think about what a cat would want to eat. He placed his hands on the iced counter tops, then got an idea.

By the time he got back into the living room, a plate of cheesed eggs and smoked salmon in each hand, she was snuggled comfortably under the quilt that North had knitted for him, watching the TV, which was playing Avengers. They were at the part where the Hulk and Thor were battling in the aircraft area. The remote was laying by her side. "Did you turn on the TV?" he asked in disbelief as he sat down beside her. She mewed innocently, rubbing her head on his arm. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah right, come on, let me get some cover."

She scooted over let him lay under the quilt, and licked her lips greedily as he slid the small ice plate in front of her, the food still smoking slightly. "Dig in," he declared, holding his fork up. She nodded, and bent down and began to eat her food.

The two soon finished their food, and watched Avengers with wide-eyed interest as the action scenes passed before them. Sometime during the movie, she had traded her spot by the armchair for curling up beside him, her head resting on the inside of his leg, one paw over his calf possessively. He didn't mind, and began to rub her lazily, his hands trailing meaningless signs into her pelt. Sometimes she would lift her head and lick his hand. The first time he had jumped, not expecting her tongue to feel so spiky. The second time, he was prepared for it, and let her lick his hand. What he wasn't prepared for was her climbing all over him, her paws digging into the crooks of his arms and shoulders before settling in his lap. Then she kneaded her paws into his legs, her claws scraping at the fabric and skin, then laid down in between his legs, as cozy as a bug. He had been annoyed, but allowed it.

The night went on, and by the time the movie was over, the storm was still raging outside. "I guess you're staying with me," he sighed as he turned off the TV and stood up. The cat, whose fur had dried with the help of the heavy quilt and the fireplace, meowed happily as she hopped down and padded down the hall back to his bedroom.

"Wait, who said you were sleeping in my room?" he protested, hurrying after her. He founded her already kneading at his bed, and picked her up and took her back into the living room. "You're gonna sleep in here, okay?" he told her. She meowed in protest. "Hey, don't make me put you back out in the rain," he warned before blowing out the fire, the flames locked in ice. She huffed, but allowed him to set her down and walk away back into his room.

He sighed as he took off his sweatshirt, and tossed it on to the chair by the desk. He then slid underneath the covers and curled up into a ball, then rested his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to drift off into sleep, suddenly, he heard footsteps from outside his door. He opened his eyes, alarmed, before recognizing the soft padded feet sounds. _She's probably going to go explore the house or something_, he thought as he closed his eyes again. Suddenly, he felt something jump on to his bed. "Hey!" he exclaimed, lifting his head to see her sitting on his bed, her pale blue eyes glowing in the dim light. "What did I tell you? You're not sleeping in here," he said as he grabbed her up and set her on the floor. He laid back down and closed his eyes.

She meowed indignantly, and leaped back up, this time directly on to his thigh. "Come on," he groaned, picking her up again and putting her back on to the floor. He hadn't even closed his eyes before she was back on him again. He exhaled in irritation. "Fine! You can sleep in here!" She meowed happily, and began to knead the space between his legs and his bottom.

He sighed, then closed his eyes again. The sensation of her pressing her paws around him was actually quite soothing. He let himself focus on the soft scraping of her claws, the soft movement as she laid down behind his legs. And before he knew it, he was asleep.

Jack was vaguely aware of the thunderclap and the bursts of lightning outside. Burgess thunderstorms were quite frequent during late August and early September, so he was used to them. He yawned as he lifted his head, trying to find the source of what had awoken him. He glanced down to see the cat pawing at covers. The she-cat was clearly afraid, her ears flattened against the sides of her head, wanting to be under the covers to hide from the scary noises outside.

Not in the mood to argue, and feeling a twinge of pity for her, he allowed her access to his bed and lifted up the covers. She hurried underneath, and curled up right against his chest, her soft fur tickling his bare skin. She was warm, her body vibrating with a soft purring.

He put down the covers and laid his arm up from her, so that he wouldn't squish her. But to his surprise, she pawed gently at his outstretched arm, until he laid it over her. She lifted her left paw and hung it over his arm. He suddenly understood what she wanted, and hooked his hand under her body and pulled her close. She almost seemed to sigh, tilting her head back so that that tips of her ears were rustling against his nipples.

Jack gently stroked the soft belly fur and closed his eyes. The soft purring and the sound of the thunderclaps outside gently rocked him, and the cat, both to sleep.

* * *

That was longer than I expected.

_Our Farewell- _Brunuhville (Lyrics written by myself)

_Ruska_- Apocalyptica

Any Apocalyptica fans? No? Go check them out, totally awesome cellist metal band. And the same for Brunuhville, he composes these fantastic pieces of music every few weeks. 'Our Farewell' is my one of my favorites, along with 'King of the North', 'Heaven and Hell', and 'River of Tears'. All of his compositions are amazing. I wrote the lyrics to Our Farewell about three or four months ago, because I was so moved by the music, though it's a bit repetitive.

*Ruska, or russeting, is the Finch word for autumn.

* * *

I was going to call this chapter **Breaking the Ice**, but as I wrote down the chapter, I began to realize that Jack was cracking the barrier between him and Simone, rather than breaking it. Because Simone is just that hard-headed and scarred(I'll leave that for Chapter 8 or 9)so that her walls are going to take a lot more than a couple visits to break down. And he's also cracking the ice between him and Snowy Winter, since they're bonding quite nicely, but he doesn't know what she is. And as it happens, he finds out the same time he actually breaks the ice between him and Simone. So I'll just leave that name for Chapter 7.


	5. Temperamental Secrets

Jack opened his eyes blearily in the faint morning light. Sunlight streamed in rays through the closed window, shooting a direct beam right on to his face. He winced at the heat on his cheek, and rolled away- off of the bed. He yelped as he fell on to the iced ground, the sharp coolness of the floor shooting a pain up his elbow. Jack groaned as he sat up, rubbing his elbow tenderly, then stiffened when he remembered last night. Avengers, eggs and salmon, sleeping-_ the cat!_ He whipped around to see the empty bed, the covers thrown all over the place. There was one place, though, where there was a huge lump underneath the quilt.

He hesitated, then stood up and cautiously lifted up the lump, only to drop it back down with a sigh. She wasn't there. _Yesterday was strange, _he recalled as he sat down on the bed. _All that happened...how do I even know if that really happened? No, no, that was too real to be a dream or- or some hallucination. That happened. _The cat must have left when the rain let up, keeping her promise. To his surprise, he felt a small twinge of disappointment.

She had been good company last night. It was almost like being with a real person; she provided a sense of- _companionship_ that he hadn't felt before. Jamie had begun to trade more of his time with Jack to his new high-school friends, though he held nothing against him; he had expected it. And what he had with Tooth was, he was sorry to say, strictly romantic. They never hung out as friends would, only as a couple. North and Sandy was always busy with toys and dreamsand, and Bunny...well, Bunny was Bunny. They had very different ideas of fun. Jack was still trying to get over the time Bunny brought him to a "spiritual" strip club.

But the cat...Jack stroked his forever-beardless chin. She hadn't minded just sitting down and watching an action movie. He would have popped popcorn if she was human. It would have been a casual, get-together movie night between two friends. _And why couldn't it be? _he wondered.

_Because you're not friends. _

Jack recognized the voice, and felt a mixed blend of amusement and relief. _There you are. I was worried that I had scared you off. _

_Uh huh, and pigs can fly. _

_What class are you in? _he asked, mostly for the sake of curiosity than anything else.

_AP World History._

_How is it?_

_Interesting enough. But when you've already seen and read everything, it's kind of hard not to just fall over and sleep. Especially for me. _

_Didn't sleep last night? _

_Haven't slept since third period yesterday. And that was only for twenty minutes. _

_Really? You know, not getting enough sleep is one of the leading causes for depression._

_Who says I'm depressed? You know what? Never mind, Ms. Whippleberry's asking me a question. Talk to you later._

He was about to protest, but her presence in his head had already vanished. He sighed, and walked out of his room and down the hallway towards the kitchen. As he passed the bathroom, something tickled at the inside of his nose. He began to slow down in the middle of the hallway, then took a quick whiff of the odor in the air. Just to be sure, Jack then tilted his head up and inhaled deeply. Yep, he was right. Somebody was cooking.

For a second, he felt a flash of fear when he realized that someone had invaded his private sanctum, his home. _What if it was Pitch?_ His breathing became labored, and he staggered to a stop, putting a hand on to the wall to steady , no it couldn't be. It was probably Tooth, coming over to spend some quality time together. She had done that once or twice before. The more Jack thought about it, the more he became sure that it was his beloved in the room down the hall.

Empowered by this thought, he straightened his back, and continued to walk as if nothing had happened. But when he went into the kitchen, it wasn't Tooth he saw, or even Pitch.

A meow greeted him from one of the counter tops of his kitchen.

Jack stared in mild disbelief as he saw the cat from last night almost seem to wave at him with her tail, then meowed again. "You're still here," he said dumbly, still in mild shock.

She rolled her eyes as if saying, _Well, duh. I'm right here, aren't I? _Then she stood up, then began to gently shove the pan that was on the stove beside her off of the burning eye. Something dark and long shone from the edge of the pan. Jack cautiously stepped forward to see inside. Six long sausages, cooked almost to perfection, were rolling around as she pushed the skillet on to the unused burner. She then turned to Jack's direction and crouched low, her eyes concentrated on the opposite counter. Then, with an almost effortless jump, landed on the other side, where two pancakes were finishing up on the griddle(where did she find these things?), and grabbed the spatula laying besides, and, in one graceful move, managed to scoop the two up, then somehow jumped back across and wobbled over to an ice plate a couple paw-steps away, where two other pancakes were residing, and laid them on top. She laid down the spatula, then tipped the pan with the sausages in it over the plate, letting them roll next to the pancakes.

Once every sausage was out, she reached underneath one of the mittens with her paw, and managed to pull out a folded sheet of paper with writing on it. She picked it up between her sharp teeth, then held it up to Jack. Hesitantly, he reached over and took it from her, and unfolded it. The writing looked slightly shakily, though reasonably legible.

_Jack-_

_I thought that since you had been kind enough to make me dinner and let me stay the night, I would like to repay the favor by making you breakfast, and hope that I haven't been an inconvenience to you. I would also like to wish you a good day, since I hear that Lake Tahoe and Wisconsin are going to be experiencing a rather "surprise" snowfall this morning. I hope you enjoy this meal, and wish you a wonderful day! _

Jack flipped the sheet over, but there was no name. Not that it wasn't painstakingly obvious about who had wrote it. How she managed to write and spell everything was mind-blowing in itself. Not to mention that she had cooked him _breakfast._ As a _thanks_. He glanced down at the cat, who was looking up at him with luminous ice blue eyes, her face still slightly kitten-like.

He cleared his throat, then, to be sure, asked, "Did you write this?" He gestured to the note. She nodded. "And you made this?" He pointed to the plate. She gave him a look that quite clearly said, _What do you think? _"Well, uh, thanks. Actually, thank you. This looks absolutely delicious. But..." he trailed off, hesitating. Her face become alarmed, and she mewed in slight unease. "Did you wash your paws?"

Her face instantly relaxed, and she mewed indignantly, cuffing at his abdomen playfully, as if saying, _Of course I did! _He laughed, and rubbed her head affectionately. She purred, closing her eyes as he scratched her behind the ears. Her ears were small in a way that made her look kitten-ish, the fur between them thick and soft, and the skin beneath as smooth as a baby's bottom. Or, what he had imagined a baby's bottom to feel like.

He slid off his hand, and she looked up at him again. "Thanks," he said softly.

She shrugged, as if saying, _No biggie._

They spent the morning together, Jack happily splitting his sausages with her, even getting her to try a piece of the pancake. She had managed to cook everything to near perfection, the buttermilk pancakes as light and fluffy as could be, the sausages thick and meaty. As they ate, they sat in the living room together silently, Jack stroking her back with his free hand, and she would sometimes nip affectionately at his hand. This was almost as good as one of his playdates with Jamie. There was something comforting in the quietude between two friends. When the plate had been cleared, he took it into the kitchen, the cat close on his heels.

"You know, you never told me your name," he told her as he washed it. She shrugged listlessly. "Do you have one?" he asked. She shook her head, her face suddenly somber. "Well, is it alright if I give you one?" Jack had the pleasure of seeing her face light up, like a kid at Christmas. "Okay. How do you feel about...Samantha?"

She made a face, and shook her head. "Um, Ariel?"

This time, she pretended to gag. He rolled his eyes as he dried the plate. "Do you want me to call you Mildred? Because we can do the little mermaid thing if you want."

She growled, baring her teeth, but he could tell by the humor in her eyes that she was playing. "Okay, how about..." His eyes flickered down her snow-white coat. _Wait...That's it!_ "How 'bout Snowy?" he asked as he put the newly-cleaned plate on top of the stack, then leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "After your coat?"

The cat tilted her head to the side, contemplating the name. Then, after a few minutes, she nodded, a look of excitement in her eyes. "Okay, then, _Snowy_-" Snowy meowed eagerly at the sound of her newly given name- "_I _have to go and make some people wish they had brought a couple coats. Think you can hold down the fort?"

Snowy nodded, the tip of her tail flicking eagerly. "Good." He bent down and rubbed her head affectionately. "But remember, if Tooth comes by, for whatever reason, you have to leave," he warned as he walked back into his room. She jumped back on to the bed, meowing in protest. "You do remember who Tooth is, right?" he asked as he pulled on his sweater. Snowy nodded solemnly, though annoyance flickered in her gaze. "Good. She doesn't like cats. Well, I'd better be on my way," he sighed as he grabbed his staff and set it over his shoulder. "You'll be good?"

She mewed, jumping down and rubbing herself on his legs, purring softly. He chuckled, and bent down to scratch her beneath her chin. "Good girl. Good Snowy," he corrected himself as he stood up. "See ya!" he called as he jogged to the back door. Without waiting for a reply mew, he jumped outside, then let the wind sweep him up and carry him away.

* * *

Jack gasped as he slid to a stop outside Burgess High, panting hard from his run across the country and back. There had been some disgruntled summer and fall spirits, who weren't amused by Jack's surprise snowfall. When he was in North Carolina, a Cherokee summer spirit whose name he couldn't pronounce for the life of him(and it had almost come to that)had actually chased him out of the state, then continued even when he had gotten back into South Carolina. It wasn't until he was fifty miles away from Burgess he had been able to lose her.

He shuddered, remembering the look of fury on her face when she had discovered him laughing as he sat in a tree over a small pond, watching the kids laugh as they skated on the newly-iced water. She had demanded- after switching from Tsalagi when she realized he couldn't understand a word she said- what he was doing there and why. When he had told her to calm down and take a chill pill, then laughed at his own joke, she had asked him, in a tone that he probably should have taken seriously, "Do you know who I am?"

"No," he had replied ignorantly. Before he could get a clue, her skin had suddenly caught on fire, making her look more fearsome than almost any creature he had ever seen. And with a roar, she had thrown herself at him, and so begun the chase. He could still feel the burn of her heat on the fringes of his clothes. With a groan, he slid down the side of the wall, trying to recollect his senses. Almost every single nerve felt as if he had been thrown in a toaster with settings on 'Burn This Thing to a Crisp'.

Although, he supposed that it could have been worse. If he had actually been burned...He shuddered. The last time he had accidentally burnt himself was when he was at Mount St. Helens, and his arm from his fingertips to his elbow had literally melted off. It had only taken an hour for it to grow back- after he had flown in a wild panic and pain and buried himself in snow somewhere far north. So, compared to what had happened this time, he had gotten off pretty easily.

He rested against the wall for a few moments, letting the small snowflakes that had begun to fall with his presence land on the ground around him. Then, when he was sure that his legs could support his weight, he shakily stood up, using his staff and the wall to prop himself up. When his knees stopped trembling, he let go of the wall, testing their strength, then grinned when they didn't collapse underneath him. He bent his legs, about to spring up into the air, when it occurred to him that he was outside of Jamie's high school. And school was out, right? It wouldn't hurt to visit the kid for a quick second.

Jack reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his pocket watch- a gift from North last Christmas. It was the size of his palm, the cover engraved with frost formations. His thumb slid over the clasp, and it hissed as it jumped open. The long hand- which resembled a thinly stretched-out snowflake- pointed to the Roman numeral III, while the small hand- a regular sized snowflake with the tip elongated- was at IV. Jack frowned, then decided that he would check and look anyway. Maybe he was at the pool- Jamie did say that he was going to try out for the swim team.

Deciding that he would go for moral support(if he was there), he jumped up into the air and flew through the open window on the third floor. The hallway was absolutely deserted, save for the few bits of paper being blown across the floor and down the staircase with Jack's arrival. "Okay, now where's the pool?" he muttered to himself as he began to jog down the stairs. It was probably on the bottom floor, seeing as how having it on the second or third was prone to cause leaks and spills, not to mention it could fall through the ceiling if installed incorrectly.

A few kids were lounging on the bottom steps to the first floor, chatting and laughing as they looked at something on their phones. Jack wondered if he should jump over the railing to avoid going through them, or to just pass them and give them a chill or two. He decided on the latter, and chuckled to himself as they shuddered with sudden cold and pulled on their coats and jackets. He leaped forward and began to slide forward, his feet sliding against the cool marble floor. Just as he was about to give up his search and leave, he slid past a door with the word 'POOL' written in big bold letters. He skidded to a stop, then jogged back and opened the door eagerly.

To his disappointment, the pool room was empty. He sighed, tossing his staff over his shoulder. "Well, this was a waste of time." He was about to turn around and leave when a mischievous idea came to him. A mischievous, trouble-making idea. He grinned as he spun around on his heel, then jumped into the middle of the pool. Instead of plunging through, he landed on a thick sheet of ice that was quickly beginning to spread from the soles of his feet. Grinning even wider, he swung his staff down to the water, the tip leaving thin layer of ice above it, and began to skate across the newly-iced pool. Laughing, he skated from side to side, imagining the faces of the students and teachers when they came into the room and found their precious pool frozen.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside the door. Instinctively, he dove for cover behind one of the crates in the back of the room that seemed to have no actual purpose. The door opened with a slow creak, and Jack peeked between the boxes he was hiding behind to see who it was. It was a girl, probably seventeen or eighteen, judging by her height and...womanly features that were visible even through her thick clothes, though a long curtain of attractively ragged hair that reached her waist covered her face. She poked her head inside the room, then turned her head towards Jack, bright gray eyes seeming to stare right at him. He stifled a gasp. It was Simone. Now that he thought about it, why should he have been surprised? She _did_ go there.

Her head turned away again, apparently not having seen Jack. Her eyes went over the rest of the pool room, then widened when they landed on the frozen pool. She stepped inside of the room, then quietly closed the door behind her, and tip toed over to the pool. She knelt beside the pool, and reached out to touch it. Jack saw that she was, once again, wearing a thick pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, the sleeves pulled up to her fingers. Honestly, did she ever wear anything else? They made her look so plain and unappealing. She would look good in skinny jeans, maybe a low-cut V-neck shirt, a color that would bring out the green and gold flecks in her eyes. And she could pull back her hair, her face pleasant enough when she wasn't scowling.

_Jack, stop mentally checking her out, _he scolded himself.

She slid her small fingers across the ice tentatively, her pinky and thumb still clutching her sleeve. If she leaned over a little bit more...Impulsively, Jack leaped out from behind the boxes and shouted, "Boo!" Her head whipped around at him. Her hand slid forward, she yelped as she slipped forward. Instead of just sliding on the ice penguin-style, like Jack had thought, she plunged headfirst into the pool, the ice breaking beneath her.

_Oops._

He leaped over to the edge of the pool to make sure she was okay. Her dark figure struggled underneath the water for a few seconds before she resurfaced, gasping as she pushed her hair out of her face. "Jack!" she cried. "What have you done?!"

"Look, I'm sorry I scared you-" he began.

"You _idiot!_ You don't even-!" She thrashed around angrily in the water, but panic was plain on her face.

"What's wrong? Can't you swim?" He extended a hand to her. "Let me help you out."

"No." She shook her head, her eyes wide with dismay. "No, you don't understand. I-" She yelped as she jerked back underneath the water, her hands flying up before she disappeared beneath the waves.

Without thinking, Jack leaped on to the edge of the ice in alarm, about to reach into the water and pull her out, when ice crept over the hole that she had made. "NO!" he shouted, and brought his fist down on to the ice. But instead of breaking it, a thicker layer of ice covered the hole. He stared in horror. "No. No, no, no, no, no." His hands desperately began to scrabble over the ice, but wherever his fingers glided over the frozen water, another layer was added on top of it. "No, no, no, no!"

His heart had begun to pound in his chest. Oh, MiM, what had he done? He searched desperately through the ice for any sign of Simone, but it was too thick. The only thing he could see was a dark mass that surely had to be the bottom of the pool...bu was strangely beginning to get bigger. And bigger. His heart beginning to feel as if it would burst through his chest, Jack leaned down until his nose was pressed against the ice, hopeful that the mass was Simone. Suddenly, something long and reptilian, with glowing blue eyes, pressed itself against the bottom of the ice. Jack shouted wordlessly in shock, leaping back and scooting away from the face.

The thing disappeared, though he could still see it's huge body slithering beneath the ice to the middle of the pool. Suddenly, he heard- and felt- a loud _thump!_ A large crack appeared underneath the ice. Jack, curiosity getting the best of him, crept closer to get a better look. Something long and hard, that looked strangely like the end of a snake, was slamming against the underside of the ice. Jack watched, unable to move, as it continued to break through the ice. Just when it was about to break through, the shadow disappeared. Jack hesitated, then scooted a little closer, and tried to see past the thick layers of ice.

Without a warning, something dark and _large _rushed up to the ice, and broke it through with one clean launch. He froze, unable to move. The ice around it splintered as a small head, with a _long _neck, and reptilian skin rose up from the water. It tilted its head up and opened its mouth, showing white, long, razor sharp teeth. Jack's first thought was the Loch Ness monster, but that was ridiculous. They were in Burgess for crying out loud! At a _swimming pool!__  
_

_Well that's what happens when you knock me into the water! _

Jack blinked at the sound of Simone's voice, not in his head, but echoing around the room. And the epicenter was...The sea monster tilted its head back down and fixed Jack with its sharp blue gaze. It almost seemed to raise an eyebrow. _What? Don't recognize me?_

His eyes widened as he stared up at the great beast. "_Simone?_"

_Yeah, I know. I need to wash my scales, barnacles are starting to cluster on to my stomach. But don't worry, I'm getting a scrubbing on Saturday. _

He forced himself to push himself to his feet. "Did you just crack a _joke_, Simone? Maybe I should push you into the water more often."

Her eyes narrowed. _Don't you even think about it! _she hissed. _Do you know how dangerous this is for me? Being like this in public? If anybody finds me, I'll be carted off to the __laboratories, and then _Hello, Atlantis! _for the scientists!_

"Sorry, maybe if you had told me about...about _this_-" He gestured to her new form- "I wouldn't have done it." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a second, _you _were the thing that Tooth saw in the River Ness!"

She bowed her head. _Yes, _she admitted. _My family and I were coming back from visiting Nessie and-_

"Wait, Nessie is _real?_" he demanded.

_Yes, Nessie is real, as is Ogopogo and Naitaka and Champ and Kelpie and all those other well known sea monsters that you hear of from the deep, _she said impatiently, her head tossing from side to side in agitation. She almost looked like a horse. _They're all Atlanteans, some of them relatives by marriage, which is why Tooth saw me in the River Ne__ss. _

Jack's head was beginning to hurt again. "So...all Atlanteans...can turn...into _this?_"

_Into a plesiosaur, or, more specifically,_ Elasmosaurus_? About sixty percent. Thirty are _immutabilis,_ or Atlanteans whose DNA makes it impossible for them to be able to change into an _Elasmorsaur_, which usually happens if they're first-generation Atlanteans._ Immutabilis _actually means _unchangeable,she explained. _Then the rest of the percentage is- wait a second, why I am telling you this? I should be trying to get myself out of this mess!_ She exhaled loudly out of her front nostrils, two slits at the end of her snout. She tried to turn around in the ice, but the circle around her immensely long neck seemed to restrict her from moving anywhere. She exhaled again. _Great! Now how am I supposed to get out here? __  
_

"Can't you break through it?" he asked.

She shook her head. _No, it's too thick. _She turned to glare at him. _No thanks to you. _

"Why can't you just turn back into a human?"

_A _Naji_'s body is designed so that whenever they fall into water deeper than their comfort level, they immediately turn into an _Anubi_. __ It's a defense mechanism. _Simone sighed, then suddenly seemed to perk, the little horns on each side of her head lifting up. She looked more like a giraffe than a horse now. _I have an idea! Stand back, _she warned as she began to slide back into the water, eyeing him before her head slid beneath the water.

He raised an eyebrow, but did as she asked, and stepped back a couple steps until he was back on to the cement. It occurred to him at the moment to wonder exactly what she was planning to do. "Simone, what are you-"

_Look out! _With a loud crash, she seemed to erupt out of the water like a volcano, her jaw open in a silent roar. The ice broke immediately around her, letting her free to propel through the air, her body a blur. Jack laughed for a second, until he realized that she was soaring straight towards _him. _Before he could even move, a wave of shimmering light passed over her body, and, within a flash of light, Simone in her human form was soaring through the air. She shrieked as she continued to fly at him. "Jack, **move**!"

Jack was too stunned and surprised to think to move. She slammed into him with the force of a ton of bricks, knocking them both to the ground. He gasped as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, then looked up through watery eyes to see...something else. As Simone picked her head up from his chest, their eyes met. It was one of those rare times when Simone had the stormy grey eyes and they actually seemed to bring out her looks. Not to mention that her eyes weren't narrowed in anger or irritation for once, even though he now realized that they were naturally slanted. Her hair fell around them, framing her face prettily, making her sharp oval face and hard shape of her jaw seem soft.

She blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him, the soft look immediately gone. "I told you to move," she said flatly.

"Well, maybe if you had told me what you were about to do, I would have moved," he replied. "And I don't know, I rather like it here," he added teasingly, glancing around and looking at their position. She was hovering over him, her hands positioned on each side of his head, their bodies aligned almost perfectly together. If someone were to walk in on them...

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" She pushed herself off of him and back on to her feet. She didn't offer him a hand this time, exasperation and irritation back on her face. "Well, as much fun as this has been, I must be getting home."

"Aw, you're not gonna stay?" He stood up and brushed off his pants. "I thought we were having fun."

"You and I must have very different idea of fun," she said, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail.

"Right," he said in amusement, leaning against his staff. "So...meet you back at your place?"

She turned to look at him, her eyes a darker grey than before, and opened her mouth, but then, for reasons that he probably would never know, closed it and turned away. "Fine," she muttered. "See you there."

* * *

Jack landed on Simone's doorstep, and was about to knock on the door when he saw, for the second time that week, a note posted on the door. He ripped it off and held it up to his eyes to read.

_Out in the garden. -Simone_

"Alright-y, then." He turned around and jogged down the stairs, and tip-toed through the grass to the gate that barred the rest of the world from the side and back of the house. He hadn't seen this part of her home yet, though he recalled her telling him to check it out on his way out on Friday. He lifted his arm and reached over the wooden fence to pull up the latch, then carefully pushed it open, wary of the annoying scrapping sounds against the ground. But it breezed over the grounded, only making a high whistling noise from the wind blowing through it. Jack slid through the gap between the door and the fence, then began to walk beside the side of the house.

Already, grass was growing in a rather lush blanket on the ground, reach just above his ankle. It felt good on his feet, though, cool and authentic, not like most perfect-grass for wealthy homeowners. He rounded the corner, then gasped.

It was like he had walked into a fairy-tale. Jack stared in awe and wonder as he stepped into what felt like the real-life _The_ _Secret__ Garden _into a world of different shades of green and bright colors. Flowers of almost every kind shot up out of the ground, gathering either in little bunches by the ground, or waved high in the wind. Pink and white lilies pushed themselves out of a bush of thyme and rosemary. Orange ones shared a patch in the sunlight with little purple and blue irises that rose about to his thigh with petals and leaves that bent backwards like a waterfall. There were daffodils and snowdrops that grew close together underneath a birdbath, a few flowers tangled. There were birds in there now, a few hummingbirds and two robins tweeting merrily as they washed themselves in the fountain of water coming the statue woman's mouth. There were a couple more baths, spread out through the backyard, barely soon through the plants.

Jack almost didn't want to step forward, afraid of crushing and therefore ruining the wild-yet-absolutely perfect garden that sure must have taken years to make, yet he didn't want to fly either. But Simone obviously wasn't on this side of the garden, and he couldn't see past a flowering vine with purple flowers that just seemed to pour down out of nowhere. He sighed, then brightened when he saw something. White and yellow rose bushes dotted alongside a path that the plants barely kept from overrunning, the grass almost hiding the slanted stone steps from sight. He carefully placed his feet on the broken stones, the slate warmed by the sun. Jack paused for a second, then lifted his head into the air, and inhaled deeply on impulse. His nostrils were overrun with scents, sweet and sharp, low and soothing, mild and soft. Grinning, he tilted his head back down, and began to walk through.

As he looked around, walking, he could see other paths, branching off from the main one that he on now. A squirrel darted across across one in front of him, its tail bushy and eyes bright. Chipmunks darted up the trees as soon as they heard the loud stomping of the intruder. Different kinds of birds swooped in and out of the leaves. Hummingbirds drank nectar out of small red flowers. Blue-jays hopped from branch to branch, sparrows pecked at the ground. A small yellow bird with black on its head and tips of its feathers flew around his head twice, tweeting a greeting before flying off. He laughed, and watched it fondly as it flew back into the mixed growth.

Jack reached the flowers that had blocked his way earlier, and saw that the shower of purple flowers were actually part of a tree that rose high into the sky, the lower branches creating a little halo. He stopped beside one of them, and pulled it close to examine the flowers. They were beautiful, star-shaped with pale lines running along the rims, the stamens and the pistils shooting out of the middle like trumpets. He chuckled to himself at the thought, then continued carefully treading through the garden.

A fountain marked the middle of the backyard- two swans flying by each other, wingtips barely touching, their heads thrown back, water elegantly curving in the air and landing in the The pedestal was a small little bowl, that looked like the only thing keeping them tethered to the ground. He ran his hand along one of the swans' neck, admiring the smoothness of the stone, then continued walking.

There were only nine or eight trees, though each one held its own grace. There was the one he had just passed, then an oak tree surrounded by dock leaves and mushrooms. Then there was a walnut tree, the branches large and sparse, perfect for climbing. If he craned his neck, he could see a small willow, its gray-green leaves acting as a curtain for what laid close to the trunk. Then to his right, close to the house, there was apple, pear, plum, peach, and some other type of fruit that he didn't recognize trees. There was also a couple potted mandarin tree, cut bonsai style.

Jack was tempted to try one, sure that they would be the prize-winning taste that should be expected in a place like this, but first, he had to find Simone. But as he continued, though, he began to realize that the entire side by the house was almost a fruit-and-vegetable garden. Watermelon and strawberries popped out from their vines and into the sun, the pumpkins and squash not far behind. Tomatoes and grapes and blackberries climbed on to the trellis placed almost randomly. There was even one for sugar snap peas and some type of jade-colored bean. Full cabbage heads burst out of the ground randomly, always beside some blueberries or huckleberries. He grinned, bending beside a patch of little green leaves, wrapped his hand around a bunch, then, with a mighty heave, yanked it out of the ground. Two carrots dangled from the leaves he had picked up, one bright orange, the other purple.

"That was unnecessary." He jumped at the voice behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Simone parting the curtain from the willow tree. She had taken off her baggy hoodie and was now wearing a light grey long-sleeved shirt, making the sweatpants she had on earlier make her seem less...awkward. The shirt made her eyes seem less a harsh gray and more soft-looking.

"Did you really have to pick the carrots?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry, do you want me to-?"

She waved her hand carelessly. "Just leave it. The rabbits can have them. Maybe it'll get them to stop eating the roses."

"Okay." He set them down, then carefully tiptoed through red and yellow tulips until his feet touched soft grass. It was almost cushiony-

"That's not a word," she reminded him as she let the curtain fall, and went over to sit by the trunk of the tree, between clumps of dock and lavender on each one. The smell was relaxing, comforting.

He glared at her, but she only sat down and picked up a book bound in red leather and began to read. She patted the spot besides her when he didn't move. "Sit. Or will I have to move your body for you?"

He rolled his eyes, but sat down next to her. "What are you reading?" he asked, unable to read the golden title letters.

"_Nashataku Bonjkumon_."

"Bless you."

She sighed. "'The Secret of Nash Valley'. It's bestseller author Jirakodo's newest book. Want some grapes?" She reached over and lifted up a bowl full of green, red, black grapes.

He took it gratefully, and popped one into his mouth. It was delicious. "What's it about?" he asked as picked up another.

Simone closed her book and tilted her head, resting against the tree, thinking. "A girl from Cyprus in 6000 BC is an outcast in her village, them thinking her to be a witch because of her intuitive mind. Her sisters and brothers shove her off of a cliff, but she survives and lands in the Nasha Valley, the land between mountains that connected Cyprus to Celinge, Atlantis, which was then underwater."

"Then?"

"Still is. Anyway, she turns into an _Anubi_, which is what I turned into today. She keeps it a secret, because if they find out she really does have powers, they'll kill her. She continues to return to Nasha, until one day she finds a hidden way down to Atlantis and- well, it's like Harry Potter in the way that she was part of a world she had only been told stories of. It's the first of his new series."

"Sounds good," he remarked, laying down and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. Simone's hair slightly shone a faint auburn in the faint sunlight. "But, isn't that angle a bit overdone?"

"Harry Potter?"

"No, the whole finding-out-you're-an-Atlantean-and-you-find-Atlan tis thing. I mean, wouldn't tons of Atlantean authors write about it?"

"Actually, no. Most people down there write about what most people write above surface- fantasy, science-fiction, adventure, romance. I think there's only been about twenty books in the entire history after the great flood, and most of them were probably biographies. I mean, we have people who have actually had that experience where they find out that they're part Atlantean. My mom was one of them." She shrugged. "It's starting to become a newer concept, though. And besides, I like it. It's dark in a way that Harry Potter could never be. Though, if you read _The Casual Vacancy_, that's a whole different story."

She suddenly slammed the book shut, and whipped her head around to face him. "You know, I've told you a lot about Atlantis and my life. How come I don't know anything about you?"

He shrugged. "You never asked."

"Well then." She set her book aside, then drew her knees up to her chest. "Where are you from?"

"Well, believe it or not, but I was born right here in Burgess," he said, sitting up.

"Really?"

"Yep. Born and raised. Back in the early seventeen hundreds, before the war broke out. And after I died...well, it just always seemed like home. The place I would always come back to at the end of the day."

She nodded. "Who were you...before you were Jack Frost?"

"Before?" That was a first. Nobody had really asked about what was his life like before he had become Jack Frost. "Well...my name was Jackson Overland, and-" He stopped when she snorted. "Is something funny."

"Oh no, please!" she exclaimed. "Just continue..._Jackson_."

"What's so funny about the name Jackson?" he demanded, though he was grinning.

"I don't know! It's just- I never thought that they would name a white colonist boy _Jackson._ Jack, yeah, totally. John- sure, why not? Johnathon's fine if you want a longer name. But _Jackson?_"

"I didn't decide on the name!"

"Right, right, not your fault. Please continue," she said, gesturing for him to go on, her face serious again.

"Well, like I said, my name was Jackson Overland. I lived with my mother and my little sister. I...I don't know if I ever had a father."

She frowned. "You don't remember?"

He shook his head. "I didn't even know about my past life until over two years ago."

"That's when you met Tooth, who guards memories."

Jack nodded. "And all the other Guardians. But before I could get them back-"

"-Pitch stole the teeth capsules."

"How do you know that?" he demanded. "Have you been in my head?"

"Dude, I couldn't help it. The bond drew me in when you first put on the necklace, and I got little flashes of your mind, a couple of your memories." She drew her thumb along the line of her jaw slowly, her eyes a dark blue, reflecting her deep thought. Jack couldn't help but stare as she drew it up and in between her lips, which pinched slightly on the skin. "What happened that Easter was bright, like a flashlight in the middle of the forest at night. Your mind was filled with such torment, such..._anguish_. And so much pain and fear." She glanced up at him curiously. But he didn't say anything, even though he knew _exactly_ what she was talking about. The scars across his chest and down his back began to prickle with the memory of how they came to be.

"Jack?" He looked up to see her reaching for him. She hesitated, then continued and laid her hand on his shoulder. Through his sweater, he could feel the heat from her hand, and the comfort and reassurance she almost easily seemed to give to him. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He smiled wryly. "Because you'll just look through my memories yourself?"

To his surprise, she shook her head. Wisps of dark red hair fluttered over her dark blue eyes. "No. I believe in not prying into other people's businesses."

Jack didn't know how to reply; he didn't know how to speak. Her eyes seemed to pierce him right where he sat. They were as deep at the Atlantic, and as unfathomable as the sea. They seemed to draw him in, to take his whole being and swallow it whole until they were one. He had no idea what that meant, but it was what he felt. There was a deep ache in his chest. A...longing. He remembered a similar feeling with Tooth, but this one seemed...different. This one had seemed to have always been there, to have stretched out in the time-span that eclipsed his own.

Without realizing it, he lifted his hand and reached towards her, intending to caress her cheek. He suddenly felt her fingers curl around his wrist. He sheepishly lifted his eyes to hers. She raised an eyebrow. "And for what reason were you trying to touch my face?"

His face became cool, and he was sure that he was blushing blue. "No reason," he said hastily, turning away from her. He didn't even know why he had tried to touch her.

They were both silent for a while. She finally spoke. "So what happened after you got your memories back?"

He was glad for the change in subject. "Well, I only saw how I died at first. But afterwards, I started getting them back. Sometimes in flashes, others in waves. Whole memories would come to me at least six times a day. Other times, nothing. And nothing triggers it. It just happens."

"Okay." She nodded. "So,if you don't mind my asking...how did you die?"

This was an easier question. "When I was about eighteen, I took my sister out to a frozen pond for ice skating during the winter. We were having fun, but then Emma...she slid on to some thin ice." Her eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt. "I managed to pull her off with this-" he gestured to his frozen staff-"but I accidentally threw myself on there. And...I fell."_  
_

She blinked. "But- couldn't you swim?"

He shook his head. "Water that cold..." He paused, then grinned and shook his head. "'It hits you like a thousand knives, stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe. You can't think. At least, not about anything but the pain'. Which is why I couldn't swim back up. So I drowned," he finished simply.

Simone wasn't giving him the whole kicked-puppy look that he had expected from her- at first. "Did you really just quote _Titanic_?"

"Well, I had the vibe that you-" he pointed at her-"are a fan of the movie. If not the movie, then Leonardo DiCaprio."

She shrugged. "My mom loved Leonardo DiCaprio, so she watched the movie a lot when I was little. And I grew up liking it, too."

"Really? You don't strike me as the romantic type."

"I apparently was when I was a toddler. Not to mention I _love_ the theme song. I really do need to find someone who can play the flute part to Hymn to the Sea and My Heart Will Go On, I swear those are the most moving songs in the world, besides the love theme to Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End." As she talk, she began to speak faster and faster, her whole face lighting up. It brought a kind of glow to her face, even though she didn't smile. "And even though it has that Romeo and Juliet theme going on with it, the whole I've-only-known-you-for-a-few-days-and-I-can't-liv e-without-you thing, I swear, I could just watch the movie over and over again," she said dreamily, resting her chin on her knuckles.

"Well, looks like we found something in common," he said, grinning. "That, and reading books." He glanced at the _Nashataku Bonjkumon. _"Well, at least in English."

"Don't the types of books count?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, what type of books do you like?"

"You first."

He rolled his eyes, but did as she asked. "Fantasy."

She nodded. "Science-fiction."

"Yep. Adventure?"

"Classics?"

"Graphic novels."

"History."

"Crime."

"Mystery."

There was no longer any need to say yes or no. Jack was beginning to tell simply from the sound of her voice, or the change of emotion, or the list of books she would suddenly list at the name of just one genre. By the time they reached romance and magic, all of the grapes were gone. Jack didn't know when he began to eat them, but when he said 'thriller', and reached for the bole, his fingers clutched at nothing.

He said the first thing on his mind. "Food."

She frowned. "That's a book genre?"

"No, I mean..." He gestured listlessly at the bowl. "There's no more."

"You can pick some more, if you want," she offered. "There's some blackberries and apples and Neptune knows what else out there."

Something suddenly occurred to him. "You know, I could have sworn I saw a couple fruits and vegetables that really shouldn't be out this time of year. Or in Burgess."

"Don't ask me, ask my mother. She manages to make anything grow here. She's like Dick Sowerby, able to grow a tomato plant out of a brick." She paused for a second. Without a warning, he was suddenly dissolved in a bright light, the edges fuzzy and blurred, like an old photo.

The middle began to dissolve away, showing a young woman embracing a child from the behind. They were in a garden, almost exactly like the one they were in now. Except, there were more trees, and he he could see creeks and streams in the flower growth, and little bat-like creatures swooping through the trees, and tall mountains in the distance. Both of them were smiling, the little girl laughing as she bent down to the dry patch of dirt.

"Are you sure, Simmy?" the young woman asked. She was extremely beautiful, her eyes a soft brown, face kind. There was something awfully familiar the model of her face. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, Mommy, I want to," the little girl insisted. She was almost dead-on of her mother, her face a bit more chubbier- actually all of her was chubby-but she had the same face shape, eye-shape, lips, nose. The only thing different was her eye color. They were a bluish-green, with flecks of gold brought out by the sunset-colored dress she was wearing.

"But are you _sure_ you can do it?"

"_Mahtim,_" the girl said in exasperation.

"Okay, okay, okay." The trill of her voice was familiar, too. She leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Just making sure."

"I got this," she assured her, then pulled one hand away from their intertwined fingers and hung her hand out in the air. A small, shimmering green showered down from her hand, and began to light up the ground beneath her. She tilted her hand back, her thick fingers curling slightly. Suddenly, the ground beneath began to push ever so slightly, at first in one place, then in dozens around it. Finally, green little tendrils began to push out out of the dirt.

It was like watching one of those _The Beauty of America _video clips with the fast-forward show of plant life. Leaves began to grown on the stem, then fall, then grow back. Little Simone narrowed her eyes in concentration, and suddenly, the tendrils became stretched and grew over the small patch of dirt. Small white flowers bloomed, the petals soft-looking. Little growths began growing on the sides, until they detached themselves completely. They were now little pre-ripe strawberries, white with green seeds. The young woman gasped, although by the look on her face she had expected this, and cheered softly, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. "You've done wonderfully!"_  
_

"But I'm not done yet!"

"Simmy, you can-"

"No, Mommy, I can do-" she began, but suddenly the front half of the vines erupted into orange and yellow flames. Little Simone cried out, but the woman seemed to have been expecting it. She swiped her hand towards the flame, a stream of water that had seemed to have been drawn out of thin air, and swiftly put it out.

Tears began to fall from Simone's eyes. "I thought that I could do it this time."

"Oh, Simone." She turned her to her, and pulled her close. "Don't worry. We'll get it eventually." She kissed the side of her face and began to smooth down her hair. "We'll get it eventually," she repeated, and Jack suddenly realized who she was a dead-ringer for.

He was blinking as he found himself back underneath the willow tree. He immediately turned to look at Simone, who was in the exact same position as before. "What was that?" he demanded.

She turned to look at him, and frowned. "What was what?"

"What just happened?"

"Uh, you were talking about wanting more grapes, and I said my mother could make a plant grow out of a- _oh_. You must have gotten inside my head when I was remembering...that."

He tilted his head to the side. "What was that about?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Simone."

She sighed. "When I was younger, I had a special kind of Earth affinity. Instead of making the ground move, I could make things grow in anything. Just like her."

"But your Fire affinity kept on messing it up."

"I would so agitated that I'd accidentally set the plants on fire sometimes. And when I was about eight...I couldn't do it anymore. I'd just set the little sparse grass on the ground on fire." She sighed, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I always seem to burn everything I touch."

"Aw, I'm sure that's not true."

"Name one."

He paused. "Let me get to know you first. And I don't know about you, but I'd like to speed up the process." He stood up, picked up his staff, then offered her his hand. She stared at it, then glanced up at him.

Words were a funny thing. Two words, so similar in letter and sound, could perfectly describe the teenager in front of him. _Weary._ _Wary. _His mother had to explain the difference to him when he was younger, and from thereon, even in his Jack Frost life, to be weary and to be wary to be two completely separate things. But Simone...

_Wary: feeling or showing caution about possible dangers or problems._

_Weary: feeling or showing tiredness, especially as a result of excessive exertion._

It was evident in every word she said, every movement she made that she had had a rough life. The scars on her arm, the rare shine of anger in her eyes. And there was so much that she hid, so many things hidden behind the blue veil of her eyes. And the only thing from her that he could feel- that she would _allow _him to feel- was the strong desire to just curl up in a ball and sleep. Sleep until the end came.

And then continue sleeping.

"Let me help you," he heard himself whisper.

She stared at him, then the right corner of her lips twitched in an almost sadistic smile. He felt chills go down his back. "It's too late," she said, and it was like two people speaking at once, her voice echoing over another, a deeper one, more- ancient sounding. The yellow flecks in her eyes seemed to grow larger, and larger, until there was nothing but amber in her gaze. He struggled not to flinch away, but the horror in the pit of his stomach was beginning to overwhelm him, along with a terrifying realization.

Simone wasn't there anymore.

"It's too late," she repeated. "Nobody can help me."

_Nobody._

* * *

Time to introduce Atlantean customs! :D Though it'll be a while until we see Simone back in her form again. But hey, we gotta work in those affinities! And then we'll actually have to take Jack and the Guardians down to Atlantis. And we haven't even gotten Simone to meet Tooth yet! I know a couple of you were worried about that, and I'm not sure how Tooth would deal with Jack working with a minor sociopath- yes, Simone is a sociopath, and after a while, you'll understand why. I also like to like to think that she has a bit of Aspergers, but then I think, _Doesn't she have enough to deal with?_ But yes, Simone is slightly insane, and who wouldn't, with Kishargal in their head?

Out of all the flowers I named in this chapter, let's see who can guess which one's my favorite!


	6. Temperamental Secrets II

I am sooo sorry that I'm late! School and choir and rehearsal for plays and concerts are taking up all of my time! ;-;

I _was _thinking about a smut, but then my mind thought, _Nah, let them wait for after Karaoke Night. _Don't worry, there'll be one in one of the next few chapters.

I think. ._.

* * *

"-and then she just picked up her book and started reading again as if nothing'd happened!" Jack exclaimed to Snowy as he pulled a tray filled with freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookies out of the oven and laid it on the top. "I mean, what's up with that?"

She shrugged as she placed a cookie cutter in the shape of a snowflake over one of the cookies, and began to trace the inside of it with her claw, carefully slicing through the soft dough without breaking the middle.

"The weirdest part is, when I left, she seemed- I dunno, _surprised_," he continued as he turned around grabbed the cinnamon and whipped cream off of the counter. "I don't think she remembers any of it. I mean, isn't that weird?"

Snowy paused her slicing through her fourth cookie, then looked at him. _It could be weirder,_ she reminded him. Of course, he knew that she wasn't actually saying it, but the look on her face spoke paragraphs. She turned back to her cookie and continued cutting. She swiveled her ear towards him. _You can go on about your day._

"Well, when I was up in North Carolina, I was almost killed by a summer spirit," he said, making a spiral with the whipped cream on top of the hot chocolate in his mug.

She glanced at him. _How did that happen?_

"Apparently, I pissed off a _very _important Native American spirit. All I did was make this pond freeze over and stuff. And then she got all angry and started speaking in Tsalagi or whatever, then had to switch to English when she realized that I couldn't understand what the heck she was saying. Then she set herself on fire when I told her I didn't know her name, and she freaking chased me out of the state! I mean, what's with that?"

She twitched her whiskers. _I'm pretty sure there's more to the story than that._

"No, I'm serious," he insisted.

_Really? That's a first._

"Whose side are you on?" he demanded. "Wait- why am I asking you? You're a cat, you can't talk."

_Then why are you talking to me?_

He threw up his hands. "I swear, I'm going to skin you and make you into a rug," he threatened.

She widened her pretty blue eyes innocently. _You wouldn't skin me. I'm...beautiful. _

They both burst out laughing, Jack guffawing as if there was no tomorrow, Snowy making soft exhales through her nose. They both laughed until their sides hurt. When they had managed to catch their breath, she pawed playfully at his side, before rubbing her head along his rib cage, purring softly. He smiled, and scratched the spot behind her ears, recognizing it as one of her favorite spots. She purred even louder, putting her full weight on to his hand, clearly trusting him enough to not to move his arm and let her fall from the counter on to the floor.

"Okay, Snowy, I gotta finish my hot chocolate," he said as she finally lifted herself up from his hand. "I don't know how Simone makes them, but dear snowflakes they are good! Let's just hope mine comes close."

_Well, we can only hope. _She shrugged as she rested her behind on the counter, laying her tail neatly over her paws. Then she tilted her head to the side. _Are you going to visit her tomorrow? _

Jack hesitated as he brought the mug to his lips. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'm starting to understand what Jamie said when he could feel the weirdness coming off of her. It's not _that_ bad, but...she's really something else," he admitted, before taking a sip, and felt a surge of disappointment. It was pretty good, but not _as _good.

He sighed, and set his mug on the counter. "Well, I better start wrapping up the cookies." Jack paused, then looked down at the tray. All of the cookies were perfect snowflakes, raised in the middle and thin towards the arms. Even the chocolate chips inside seemed to come out in a snowflake shape. He opened his mouth, then shook his head and chuckled. "You know, we need to open our own little restaurant, because I've honestly never seen anyone who can cook like you," he said as he placed the cookies in little stacks of three, then began to cover them in plastic wrap.

She ducked her head shyly, though her blue eyes peeked out through her thick white fur. "I'm serious," he insisted, putting the cookies away in the cupboards for Karaoke Night, which was this Friday. "You are an amazing cook. Who taught you?"

Snowy shrugged. _No one did. It's...just always been a part of me. _Suddenly, her face brightened as her eyes locked on to the whipped cream can. _Hey, do you think-__  
_

"No. **No.** Do you know how that'll mess up your stomach?" he exclaimed, immediately swiping away the can and putting it back into the refrigerator.

Her ears drooped. _You're no fun. _

"Uh, excuse me? Do you know who you're talking to?" he demanded. Before she could answer, he swooped her up in his arms. She meowed in alarm, and began to writhe around. He ran to the living room and put her on the couch before she could wriggle out of his arms, and began to tickle her stomach. "You-are-talking-to-the-Guardian-of-Fun!" With every word, he rolled her from side to side. She squeaked-mewed, batting at his face with her forelimb paws. "This is what you get, you little-"

"Jack?" He jumped at the familiar voice, and whirled around just in time to see Tooth opening the front door down the hall.

He whipped his head around to tell Snowy to leave, but she was already racing upstairs. He turned back as the tooth fairy flew to him, and opened his arms wide with a grin. "Tooth! I thought you couldn't meet until Friday," he said as he embraced her.

"Well, it was a slow day today," she said, leaning back, her hands still on his shoulders. "Did you have someone else over? I heard you talking to someone."

"Hmm? Oh, I was just, uh, talking to myself," he lied. "You know how lonely it gets in this huge ice block, nobody to talk to."

_You're a really terrible liar. _

_Oh, go burn a tree or something._

"Oh. Well, I could have sworn that someone else was here."

He frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"I don't know." Tooth suddenly looked away, her cheeks blazing red. "It's stupid, never mind."

He decided not to press her. "Do you want some hot chocolate?" he asked.

"That'd be nice." She sat down on the couch where he and Snowy had just been playing. She looked extremely uncomfortable, the feathers on her arms and legs ruffled, her lip caught between her teeth. Jack stopped at the doorway, and wondered. He had rarely seen the tooth fairy so anxious. He knew it didn't take much to rile up the faerie, but still...

He returned to Tooth with his previous mug, and handed it to her, deciding that he would just make another later. "You had this ready?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, I _was _going to drink it, but then you came, and then I thought, 'Why not let the most precious thing in the world to me have it?'."

The corners of her lips turned up, and she seemed slightly relaxed as she sipped the hot cocoa. "Mmm, this is good," she remarked. "What'd you put in it?"

"I...got a recipe from an old friend."

"Really? Who?" she asked before taking another sip.

"You don't know her," he said carelessly, then hastily added, "But I'll take you to meet her sometime."

"Oh? Why can't I meet her now?" Her feathers were beginning to ruffle up again. "You know what? Never mind, I shouldn't have come." She set the mug down on the coffee table and began to fly towards the front door.

Jack got to his feet in alarm. "Tooth, what's wrong?" he asked as he caught her arm.

"Who says anything's wrong?" she said, though she didn't meet his eyes.

"Tooth," he said seriously. "Don't lie to me. First, you show up out of the blue, then you're acting all-all twitchy and stuff. And then-"

"Bunny said he saw you with someone," she blurted.

He stared. "What?"

"He said that he saw you with some girl earlier. And that you two looked really...cozy together." She spat the words as if they tasted bad in her mouth.

"What? Tooth, come on, that's crazy-"

"-so I sent Baby Tooth to go check on you."

"You did _what?_"

"I had to be sure." She still wasn't looking at him. "She said the same. That you were with a teenage girl earlier, underneath a willow tree, and that you two were touching."

_Dude, make a story quick, _Simone urged. _Say that I was a new believer you just met at the school. You were trying to get me to open up to you, but I was as closed as a clam._

_You are, _he pointed out.

_Jack! Do you want to lose your girlfriend? _

She was right. He couldn't lose Tooth. He didn't know what he would do without her. "You mean Simone? She's...a friend of Jamie's. She saw me at the school earlier when I was visiting him, and she, uh, she saw me. She believed in me. So I, uh, followed her home, and tried to get her to talk to me." He wasn't strictly lying, though, technically, this had happened last Friday. "She would barely talk, though. She was really closed up, like a clam."

_Nice job with originality, _Simone snorted.

_Please shut up._

Tooth stared at him, a strange mixture of disbelief and hope on her face. _Please, please believe me, _he pleaded in his mind. "I would never cheat on you, Tooth. Not with her, not with anyone." He let go of her arm and interlocked his fingers with her. The skin where her feathers didn't reach was soft, smooth. Familiar. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her close, so close he could feel her soft breath against his bottom lip. He felt a small shudder run through him, nothing like the jolts he had gotten from just being around her, but it was enough. "Believe in me," he whispered, and leaned into kiss her.

Their lips met softly, his chapped, pale ones perfectly fitting with her pink, plump ones. He closed his eyes as he drew her closer, their chests pressing against each other. He gently ran his thumb along her hip, his fingers dragging through her soft feathers. She moaned, leaning against him more, her wings picking up speed. Jack lifted the hand interlocked with her fingers and caressed her cheek, kissing her more deeply. Her feathers faintly rustled against his body, and she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. Suddenly, she pulled down to her so roughly that he made a noise of exclamation in the back his throat.

Her movements became more aggressive. Her lips parted and she forced her tongue into his mouth. Surprised at the invasion, he tried to jerk his head back, but she kept his head still, her nails digging into his shoulders and the back of his neck. Then she loosened her grip and pulled back, though she still kept a tight hold on him. Jack opened his eyes to see her face flushed deeply, her eyes darkened with lust.

_Oh sweet snowflakes, that face. _He knew that he was in trouble. He swallowed hard, then asked hesitantly, "Tooth? Are you okay?"

She blinked. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Then she paused. "Actually, there _is _something I need help with."

"Sure. What is it?"

Tooth gestured for him to come closer. He bent head so that his ear was almost to her lips. "I feel empty, and I need someone to fill me up," she whispered.

_Oh boy._

Before he could react, she pushed him backwards on to the couch, and pounced on him. She straddled his waist, and pinned his arms above his head. He gasped as her lips found his jugular, her tongue snaking out to lick the vein. "Tooth-! Tooth, wait!"

"No waiting," she panted eagerly, shoving up his blue hoodie and placing her hand on his stomach. Her skin felt eerily hot against his abdomen. "You're mine, Jack, and I deserve to have you."

Something dark and uneasy prickled at the back of his mind, but Jack pushed it away. This was Tooth. She was usually sexually aggressive. And right now, he was way more preoccupied with those sinful fingers slithering down to his pants. Jack lifted his head to watch, but she forced him back down. "Just feel it," she whispered lustily in his ear, making him shiver.

Her hand slid past the waistband of his slacks, past his boxers, and her fingers were dancing along the edge of his groin. He felt that same foreboding feeling in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. It continued to grow, though, as she continued her ministrations on him. He winced as she began to handle him with more roughness, then gasped as she grabbed at his sensitive area, throwing his head back. As his head hit the pillows, the darkness of a memory surrounded him. Black tendrils misted over his eyes, and he suddenly couldn't breath.

"Tooth." She handled him more roughly, thinking that he had said her name in lust. "Tooth, stop!" he cried out._  
_

"Why?" she crooned, her nails pricking his skin around his groin.

Before Jack could answer, could tell her how terribly familiar this was, how suddenly he could feel the wrong sort of hands on him, cold and dark and cruel, he felt himself being plunged into the memory.

_"Shame, I should have done this first, Jack. Your skin is so soft and pretty." Pitch's voice was gleeful before he bent his head and began to place cruel imitations of kisses on Jack's bruised and cut body. Thrills of terror and disgust went through his shaking and fail body. He tried to writhe away from him, but the chains around his hands and ankles kept him in place under him. _

_Suddenly his fingers dug into one of his cuts, and he screamed out in pain. "No, stop!" _

_"Oh Jack," Pitch purred as he stood up. Another jolt of fear went through him as his robes fell away from his body and landed in a pile beside him. Pitch's grin was nauseating as he lowered himself on to Jack. He cried out again, trying to kick and twist from underneath him._ Not again, _he thought desperately. _Not again, not to me, please...

_Pitch began to speak again. The words came out oddly disjointed, the words not matching his lips. "Jack. Jack." It was his name, over and over again. It was in Pitch's voice, but at the same time, it wasn't. "Jack. Jack! JACK!"_

He bolted upright, a scream ripping itself from his throat. He could still feel the cold hands on his body, touching him, hurting him. He could still feel them ripping him open, mentally and physically.

"Jack!" That was Tooth's voice. That was her voice, not Pitch. He struggled to clear the black mist in his eyes that had never really gone away. Tooth was on her knees in front of him, her face pinched with anxiety, one of her hands hesitantly reaching out to his shoulder. Jack realized for a second that he was trembling; sweat beaded along the edge of his face and chest. He tried to lift his hand, to maybe bat hers away, assure her that he was okay, and found that his hand was shaking too hard to move it properly.

Their eyes met for a second, blue to amethyst. He hastily looked away, suddenly fearful that she would see all that had been hidden in them. "Jack-" Tooth began, her hand touching his shoulder. Without meaning to, he flinched away. Unable to look at the hurt look on her face, he swung his feet over the side of the couch to stand up, and, his legs moving on his own, ran to his room. "Jack!" Tooth cried, getting up, too, and following him. "Jack, wait!"

Jack tried to ignore her calls, and slammed the door behind him. His fingers feverishly locked the door, and he turned and bent over his desk. White hair fell into his eyes as he stared at the smooth oak wood, trying to push away the darkness that edged his mind.

The doorknob jangled as Tooth tried to open the door, then when she realized she had locked it, she pounded on the door. "Jack! We need to talk!"

"Go away, Tooth!" he yelled. He did not know why he wanted her to leave; he just did.

"Jack, please! Talk to me!" she pleaded.

"I don't want to talk!"

"Jack, _please._"

"For ice's sake, just leave me alone!" he shouted. _Why won't she just leave? _he thought desperately. Couldn't she see how far she had crossed the line? He had told her to stop, tried so hard to get her to stop...

"Why won't you talk to me?" she cried. There was a pause. "Is it because of...what happened with Pitch?" she asked tentatively through the door.

That was the last straw. White-hot fury filled him, and he turned around and swung the door open. Tooth was at the door, her tiny fist raised as if she was about to pound on the door again. At first she looked relieved, but then look startled when she saw the look on his face. "Jack, wha-?"

"Leave." His voice was low. Dark. He barely recognized it.

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

"LEAVE!" he bellowed. "GET OUT!" He pointed at the door, his hand shaking with fury instead of fear.

Tooth had stepped back at the fury in his voice, shock and even fear on her face. She opened her mouth, maybe to protest a little more, or insist that she'd stay, but then she closed it, her lower jaw trembling. Her eyes filled with tears, she turned around and flew from him. He stood there, his chest still heaving with anger, until he heard the front door slam.

Suddenly, all of his anger was gone, leaving him feeling exhausted and ashamed. His head hung low, he turned around and began to She had only been trying to help, and he had pushed her away. _But she pushed your boundaries, _he argued as he sat down on his bed. _He- I mean, she wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't they stop, why wouldn't they stop?_ He rocked back and forth on the bed, his hands clasped together in his lap. _Whywouldn'ttheystopwhywouldn'ttheystop- _Tears stung behind his eyes, and he began to rock back and forth faster, his whole body beginning to tremble and shake. _Whywouldn'ttheystopwhywouldn'ttheystop- _Wet tears streaked down the side of his face, dripping on to his lap. He was rocking faster now. _Whywouldn'ttheystopwhywouldn'ttheystop-__  
_

There was a sudden meow at the doorway. For once, Jack didn't have to look up to know who it was. He turned away from the door and laid on the bed, staring at the side of his dresser. For a moment, there was silence, then he heard pawsteps against the wooden floor, and then he felt Snowy jump on to the bed.

Jack felt a flash of irritation. Could the cat never leave him alone? He sat up to see her sitting at the corner of his bed. He tried to give her the angriest stare he could manage. "What are you doing here?" he said flatly. He pointed at the door. "Get out!" Snowy didn't move; she only stared at him with wide blue eyes. "Are you stupid?" he demanded. "I said get out! Just get out and LEAVE!" he bellowed.

Snowy shook her head, and just continued to look at him, with something like pity on her face.

"Why won't you leave?" The question came out as a whisper, instead of a yell.

_Because you're my friend. And friends don't leave other friends behind. _

He blinked at the clear answer he received from her face. Then again, it could be his imagination running away with him again. Suddenly exhausted, the arm that was propping him up slid down, and he was on his side again. The tears were falling back down his cheeks again.

She didn't meow or mew anything, and she didn't try to rouse him. Instead, she padded over to him and slid underneath his arm, and curled up next to him. Her back was against his abdomen, her paws were together underneath his right hand. without even meaning to, he closed his fingers over her. She tilted her head up, so that her ears brushed his pale chest, and she licked his chin. Her tongue was scratchy, but at the same time, it was soft.

Jack blinked through his tears, trying to assess what Snowy was trying to do. He glanced down, trying to see the look on her face to get an idea. She only stared back, her wide blue eyes as soft as the baby blue skies. The tears began stinging behind his eyes again, and he wrapped his arms tightly around the cat and pulled her close, before beginning to cry in earnest.

* * *

"Snowy, for the last time, I am fine," Jack said patiently as Snowy licked the dried tear streaks that were still visible from last night. It was morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise. It cast a lovely glow inside of the house. They had just finished breakfast- eggs and French toast with a fruit smoothie that Snowy had eaten enthusiastically. Jack had insisted he cooked, as an apology for how he had shouted at Snowy last night.

_I know, I know. _But she still batted at his face affectionately, her way of checking up on him. _I can't be worried? _

"I never said that," he reminded her as he caught her paw in his hand. His finger softly ran across the pad of her paw and the tips of her nails. "But I'm fine now, Snowy, really."

She mewed hesitantly. _Are you sure? You don't have to go visit that girl today. You can stay home and we can watch TV or sleep or read or-_

He gave her a serious look. "Really?"

She gave him an exasperated look, then exhaled through her nose, and placed her right paw on his nose. _I worry, okay? And I worry because I care._

"Why should you care?" he teased, placing his hand over her paw. "You're a cat."

She only gave him a look that plainly said, _I am much more than a cat. _"Well, I better get going," he said, handing Snowy back her paw and standing up. "Think you can hold down the fort?" he asked. In reply, she got up on her hind legs and made a waving with her paw that he assumed to be a salute before falling back on to all fours. He smiled, and rubbed her head affectionately. She mewed, and nipped at the flesh on the long side of his hand, then licked the spot fondly. "You be good?" he asked as he drew his hand back.

_When am I not? _

He grinned. "Atta girl." He waved, then picked up his staff from the doorway, then hurried to open the door, and flew up into the air.

Jack's first destination was to head to the nearest meadow with flowers that were still blooming even though it was now early fall. Ever since he had first stumbled up on it, almost three hundred years before, he could tell that there had been a strong type of magic here. The flowers never wilted, they never died. Instead, different flowers grew from _their _roots and stems, making it a very beautiful and diverse meadow. Jack careful touched down in the sea of knee-high flowers, then began to search for what he was looking for.

When he had finally found the flower he had wanted- a light purple iris flower with an underlining of reddish-orange- he immediately began to- carefully- pick as many as he could without damaging the leaves or the rest of the stem. He picked a couple of yellow lilies to go along with As soon as he had finished his bouquet, he got out the small bundle of satin wrapping that he had in his pocket, and, as best he could, wrapped the flowers together. When he was finished, he held it away from his body so that he could admire his handiwork better. It looked as professional as any bouquet shop, the yellow lilies adding a nice touch to it.

Satisfied, he leaped up into the air and let the wind carry him up into the air, then began to make his way to Tooth's palace.

"Hey, you guys!" Jack greeted as he landed in the main plaza, the tooth fairies immediately surrounded him, twittering and squealing happily. "Hey, hey, I'd love to stay and chat, but- hey, Baby Tooth!" he called, seeing the small tooth fairy hovering a bit away from the group. "Can you show me where Tooth is?" he asked, struggling through the thick wall of fairies around him to the get to her.

Her eyes darted away from Jack nervously, and Jack frowned. "Baby Tooth, what's wrong?" he asked, extending the hand that wasn't holding the bouquet out to her, but she didn't perch on his finger like always. He felt himself tense up. "Is something wrong with Tooth?" She shook her head, though the guilty look was still on her face. "Well, can you show me where she is?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks," he said, relieved, then said to the other tooth fairies, "Alright girls, sorry but I gotta go." They all whined in disappointment, but began to flutter away and continue their duties. Baby Tooth began to fly up towards one of the taller towers, and Jack stepped forward, just about to follow her, when a glint of gray caught his eye. He turned his head to see a bit of gray fur underneath one of the stairs. He frowned, and was just about to step towards it when Baby Tooth tugged urgently at his sweater hood.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." He turned away from the fur, feeling that he had just seen something something important. As he jogged up the stairs after Baby Tooth, he couldn't get his mind off of the gray fur he had seen. Now that he thought about it, it looked a little bit like Bunnymund's fur, with the little black markings. "Baby Tooth, has Bunny been here?" he asked when they reached the next floor.

"I don't see why it would be any of your business." The voice was cold and indifferent, but there was no mistaking its identity. He glanced up to see Tooth hovering by the edge of the level they were on. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her wings were making an angry hum.

He sighed. He had been expecting this. "Hey, Tooth. Thanks, Baby Tooth," he added, giving her a look. She nodded, and hurried away. He turned back to Tooth, clasping his other hand over the stems of the bouquet. "Tooth, I want to apologize about - about what had happened last night. I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I shouldn't have told you to leave."

"No, you shouldn't have."

Jack bit back a retort, and continued talking in a soft voice. "It's just...I _never _want to be reminded of..._that_. Of what had happened, that fall. And when you did..." She had turned away at the mention of the unnamed subject, but Jack had seen her face soften. He took this as a sign to continue. "You know that I would never say that to you under normal circumstances, right?" When she didn't reply, he went on. "Tooth, I love you, and I would _never_ mean to do _anything_ to deliberately hurt you on purpose."

She chuckled softly. "That makes it sound like you still might do it again." She turned her head, and Jack was relieved to see that she was smiling, however faint it was. "Are those for me?" she asked, gesturing to the bouquet in his hands.

"These? No, these are for Bunny, but I can get you some, too, if you want. I might not be able to get the exact ones, I'll probably get you some nightshade and yew flowers-"

She laughed as she reached over and took the flowers gingerly from his hands. "Thanks, Jack, I really do appreciate them," she said earnestly. "Are...are these amethyst flame?" she asked, touching the soft petals with her index finger.

"They reminded me of you," he said softly. She looked up at him in surprise, and Jack saw his chance. He stepped forward and cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilted her head to his. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, but before their lips could meet, Tooth suddenly wrenched her face out of his grip. Jack opened his eyes, startled, to see Tooth staring at him. "Tooth?"

But she wasn't looking at him; her eyes were locked on the clock on the wall. "Oh my goodness, is that the time? I was supposed to have gotten teeth in Concord and Lexington an hour ago!" she exclaimed, flying past him.

"Wait!" He turned around and flew down the stairs after her. "Tooth!"

"I'm sorry, Jack, but I have really important things to do!" she called over her shoulder, though she didn't look at him directly.

Jack landed in the middle of the plaza and watched her fly up to the Southern Tower in disbelief. "Tooth! Come on! What did I do?" he cried.

She finally stopped, and looked down at him, but she still wouldn't meet his gaze. "You didn't do anything wrong, Jack. It's just- I'm _super _busy and I really need to catch up on my work. I'll see you on Friday, okay? And thanks for the flowers!" Before Jack could protest, she had disappeared inside. He stared, open-mouthed, then sighed, and turned to leave when he spotted the tuft of grey fur again. He stared at it, unsure what it meant, or, more importantly, why it was there. Bunny didn't shed in the fall; if anything, he got bushier. And he wasn't nearly as clumsy enough to fall down the stairs and lose a tuft of fur.

He was about to bend over to pick it up when he caught himself. _Jack, it's just a bunch of fur, _he told himself firmly. _Stop over thinking it, and just leave. _

As he shoved his hands into his pockets and took off into the air, he began to wonder why there had been a couch with messed up covers on it on the level that they had been on.

* * *

Somewhere during his flight back to Burgess, Jack had decided that he was going to visit Simone at Burgess. It was still relatively early, the sun not yet not having reached the middle of the sky. Also, it would be a great way to annoy her. He was beginning to enjoy the look on her face whenever he managed to surprise her. It wasn't until he landed in the middle of the empty courtyard in front of the school that he realized that he had no idea what class she was in.

_In the gym. _

He jumped at the voice inside of his head. _Could you not do that?! _

_What? You were wondering. Would you prefer for me to ring a bell to signal my arrival into your mind? _Jack could faintly hear a bell ringing that reminded him of the little ones that they had on counters at the front desks at stores.

_Well, actually, I'd prefer if you used more of a cowbell. Much more macho._

There was suddenly a loud, painful clanking in his head. He gasped, and covered his ears, but, of course, that didn't help. "Okay, okay!" he exclaimed aloud. "No cowbell! No cowbell!"

The clanking suddenly stopped. _I thought so, _she said, her voice smug. _Anyway, I'd prefer it if you did _**not** _come see me at PE. That's one of my worst classes._

Jack remembered her muscled physique and the knives she had attached to her arm and the swords she had been wearing when they'd first met. He scoffed. _Really? You? Yeah, right. _

He could sense her giving him a mental eye-roll. _It's not that I'm not good at it. It's the opposite that's the problem, actually. _Suddenly, she sighed, sounding bone-weary. _Fine, you can come. But I'm not sure you'll like it._

He blinked. _What's that supposed to mean? _But he could already feel her presence vanish from his mind, and he sighed. Why did he have to be bonded with, out of all the supposed people who live in Atlantis, the most secretive and cryptic person in the world? Well, at least he knew where the gym was. Jack walked past the entrance to the school and instead headed towards the lone gym building that was across another empty courtyard that was bordered by tall pines and oaks who hadn't lost their leaves yet. Jack chuckled when he saw one with a broken branch, remembering when he had dared Jamie to climb it. One arm and leg cast later, both agreed that it had been worth it.

The door to the gym had been cracked open, allowing Jack to slip inside. The smell of sweat and boys' socks immediately hit him. He wrinkled his nose, and tried not to breathe too deeply as he tiptoed inside. Despite the prestige that the inside of the main school building, the place looked like any other high school gym, with creaky-looking basketball hoops and chipped paint on the wooden floor and the walls. The teenagers were already in their gym clothes, though one girl was wearing a black sweater and sweatpants with the school mascot on it, and were standing in two separate lines, each on the opposite end of the gym. On the black line that ran through the middle of the room were a line of rubber balls.

_Dodgeball, _Jack realized, with a mischievous grin. This was going to be _fun._

"Now does everybody know the rules?" a short, pudgy woman who stood by sidelines shouted, a whistle ready by her mouth. There was a mummer of 'yes' and 'sure'. "Alright-y, then. Ready - set-" She put her lips to the whistle and blew. To his surprise, everybody ran at the balls, expecting at least the nerdy boys to back away, or some of the girls to stay behind and chat with their friends. But everybody scrambled to grab a ball, then the game began.

Rubber balls smacked against faces, whistled by someone's arm, collided into another one's stomach. Jack watched with glee as he stood from on top of the bleachers, by now forgetting about Simone, enjoying the screams of laughter and indignant cries. _Remember, don't join in unless a ball lands by you. _Suddenly, one flew in his direction and lodged itself in between the bleachers. _Well, when in Burgess, _he thought gleefully as he set down his staff and picked up the ball, then leaped into the fray and began to play, knowing that kids were too busy concerned about trying to dodge the balls then trying to figure out where it came from. Even though he knew that he was intangible, he still ducked whenever a ball came at his direction. It made the game feel more real.

Excitement and adrenaline pumped in his veins as he played, and a joyous whoop escaped from his mouth. "Jack?" He glanced over his shoulder to see Jamie standing behind him with a ball in one hand. He seemed like one of the few kids who could look right wearing the blue basketball shorts and gray T-shirt with the school's title and mascot on it. "Dude, what are you doing here?" he asked, though a grin was tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You know, getting my A-game up," he replied with smirk, then whirled around and threw the ball he had pitcher-style. It slammed into a tall Samoan boy that could have been a football player, knocking him to the ground.

Jamie whistled, impressed. "Nice hit. Can you hit someone for me?" he asked, handing him the ball.

"Sure, who?" he asked as he took the ball.

"Him." Jamie pointed a short blond boy with glasses, looking nervous as he kept a look out for any balls that might've been coming his way.

Jack felt a jolt of surprise when he recognized him. "Wait, you want me to hit _Fred_?" he said in disbelief. "But- I thought you two were friends!"

"'Were'. We don't talk so much anymore," Jamie said dismissively.

"He's on your team!" he exclaimed, gesturing.

"And?" Jamie demanded.

Jack stared at him, the same feeling he had gotten when Jamie had called Simone a 'nobody' going through him again. "Dude, what's wrong with you?" he said without thinking.

Anger flashed in the brunette's brown eyes. "Fine, if you won't hit him, I will!" Before Jack could protest, he grabbed the ball out of his hands and pitched the ball at Fred.

"Fred, duck!" Jack bellowed. Fred immediately hit the ground, not caring where the voice came from, and the ball whizzed harmlessly over his head.

Jack sighed in relief. Jamie turned to him, disbelief on his face. "What the hell, dude?! I almost had him!"

"Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you can't just go around hitting kids who are on your team!"

Jamie glared at him and opened his mouth, about to retort, but was interrupted by the shrill sound of the whistle being blown. "Hold your balls!" the gym teacher called, eliciting a few snickers. She was standing by a girl who was covering her nose with both hands. A trickle of blood escaped from in between her fingers, and tears filled her eyes. "I'm going to take Joanna to the nurse's office, so I want all of you to keep playing, but _behave yourselves_," she said threateningly, then put arm over Joanna's shoulders and said softly as she led Joanna out, "It's okay, we'll get Ms. Pomfrey to fix it, you'll be just fine."

"Victor!" she called, and a tall teenager with spiky black hair and piercing green eyes stepped out from the crowd. There was something about him that made him look...menacing. He wasn't particularly muscular, nor was his face sharp or cruel. But Jack had a feeling that outside of his school, he was the type who would smoke on street corners and wear black leather. "Make sure everyone's following the rules, will you?"

"I will, Ms. Vierra," he promised, but anybody could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was planning on doing the exact opposite.

"Thanks. Now, come on, Joanna. Why does this always happen whenever we play dodge-ball?" she fretted as she opened the door and exited the gym. Joanna was about to step through, then she turned around and gave Victor a thumbs-up, clearly grinning, her tears gone. Jack felt a dark shadow of foreboding as she closed the door behind her.

The whole room was eerily silent for a couple seconds. Everybody was clearly waiting for something to happen. Jamie's angry look was replaced by one of excitement, and was nearly bursting with anticipation. "Jamie," Jack whispered, "what's about to happen?"

Victor turned around to face the room, a wide grin on his face, and nodded. Almost everybody with a ball handed the ball to someone, most of them tall guys with mohawks or jelled spiky hair, until all of them had a ball. a Jamie didn't answer for a second, then said, "Remember that girl that you asked about on Friday?"

Jack felt his throat close up. "Simone?" he whispered, apprehension bubbling in his stomach. He had completely forgotten about her. All of the ones with a ball began to shuffle around the room, until they had circled around a single person that Jack couldn't see, except for their black sweatpants. "Jamie. What's - about - to - happen?" he gritted through his teeth.

"Retribution," he whispered, a Chesire-cat grin on his face.

Jack looked up in horror, realizing who the person in the middle was. He ran through the crowd towards the circle, and was about to call her name when he suddenly felt an anger and, to his surprise, an aching sadness that didn't belong to him. There was tingles up his legs and arms, and suddenly, he found himself frozen a few yards away from her.

_I know,_ she whispered in his head.

"Now!" Victor suddenly shouted. All of the boys pulled their arms back in synch and launched the ball at Simone. Jack prepared himself to hear the slaps and stings of balls slamming against flesh. And it came- just not the way that Jack had expected. Suddenly, one half of the circle fell back, balls bouncing off of their faces, their own falling out of their hands. Simone had slid to the floor middle split, and was now swinging her right leg underneath the other half's legs. They fell to the ground as she was somehow back on her feet, looking unharmed.

A couple more guys grabbed some of the fallen balls and began to launch them at her. Simone ducked at the first one, then rolled out of the way of twins. Jack felt like he was watching a karate kid movie at all of the slow-motion scenes as he watched in amazement, numbly wondering why the kids were just moving out of the way instead of helping her. Just when she was back on her feet, another one flew at her face. And Jack witnessed his first true matrix-moment as she somehow managed to get to the floor with her legs bent below her and her back arched above the ground. He imagined he could feel the wind as the ball zipped over her face, barely missing her nose.

One of the larger boys grunted in frustration as he threw another one, this one going directly at her pelvis. She lifted her head, then slammed head back down and pressed her palms against the floor, then pushed herself off of the ground so that she was spread-eagle in the air, the ball hitting the ground below her harmlessly. One of the boys must have foreseen this, though, because another came at her head, a blur of red. At first, it seemed to slam into her face and backflip her. But as she landed on her feet in a crouch with her right leg stretched out next to her, the ball in her hands, Jack realized, with a rush of relief, that she had managed to catch it.

Her eyes blazing as she straightened her back, she did a pitcher's throw, and the ball hit the kid's face with a satisfactory _smack! _He flew backwards before falling on to his back, and even then, he skidded several yards on the polished floor before stopping. More balls came whizzing her way. She slid to the ground, one leg bent underneath her, then other stretched out, as they collided with each other in midair. She then leaped up and, in a strong, single fluid motion, kicked her legs out in midair, and the balls hit the heel of her shoes. They rocketed off of her shoes and slammed into their deliverers. She landed on her right leg, and used the left to swing and do a roundhouse kick against another ball. Jack couldn't help but feel a surge of pride when he heard a dull thud as the ball met its target.

Victor, who must have grabbed one of the fallen balls, suddenly launched a bullet at her while her head was turned. Jack was about to call out a warning when her left leg slipped on the floor from its kick, and she slid into a side split, the ball going over her head. She looked up and blinked in pleasant surprise, as if she was witnessing a butterfly flutter over her instead of a rubber ball that could have given her a serious concussion. Victor screamed in frustration, making Jack jump.

"Oh come on, Victor," Simone said in a bored voice as she got back to her feet. "You should know by now I'm not one of your little nerds who let you torture them. I thought last week would have taught you that." Jack suddenly had a fleeting image of Simone pinning Victor to the ground outside in the courtyard, a circle of unconscious or dazed guys around them. "And no offense, but you're making yourself look pretty foolish right now. I mean, come on, _twenty _balls, and not _one _hits me? That's really pathetic. Maybe you should take pitching classes?" she suggested.

He gritted his teeth at her. "Bitch!" he spat.

"Do I look like a female dog to you? Now your girlfriend, on the other hand..." She shrugged.

Victor's face instantly turned red. Gasps and murmurs of disbelief came out of the crowd. "Shut up!" Victor roared, and they instantly fell silent. He turned back to Simone, who was looking back at him pleasantly, though there was malice in her eyes. "You are going to pay, you little smart-ass, fucking-" He fumbled with his words, and Simone immediately interrupted.

"If you can't even come up with proper insults than besides what you've heard your parents scream at you, then I really don't think you should be trying to call me names that you don't even know the meanings of," she informed him in a matter-of-fact tone. Jack had to stifle a laugh.

He glared at her, then his eyes flickered away from her face to something behind her. Jack followed his gaze, then his eyes widened when he saw two burly guys shoving through the crowd. Victor's eyes flicked back to Simone's, and he grinned. Before Jack could call up a warning, they had already seized her by the arms and lifted her clean off of the ground. They pinned her arms in an awkward, so that when she tried to struggle, Jack could feel twinges of pain in his elbows and shoulders. She stopped, a frustrated look on her face when she realized that if she struggled anymore, she could break her arms.

They marched to in front of Victor, who was had a grim smile on his face. "Wow, you have to have your Stegosaurus friends to help you out against a fifteen-year-old girl?" she challenged.

He stepped up so that their chests were almost touching, and looked her evenly in the eyes. Then, without a warning, he swung his fist into her stomach. Jack felt a sudden blow to his abdomen and cried out in pain, clutching his stomach. She brought her knees to her chest, a hiss of breath escaping her teeth, but her face betrayed no emotion, except hatred as she lifted her head to meet his gaze again. A couple of girls had gasped when Victor had swung, but nobody moved to help her. Jack looked around in disbelief, expecting to see somebody push their way through the crowd and demand for them to leave her alone, or at least yell out their protest. But nobody said anything; they all either held their breath or looked away, waiting for it to end.

Jack turned back to Simone, whose face had turned impassive. "Now you and I both know that you aren't a regular girl," he said quietly. "I'm not sure if you're really a girl, or even a human. All I know, though, is that you're a _freak._" He spat the words in her face, and even though her face remained impassive, Jack felt...He didn't know how to explain it. It was what a rock would feel after years and years of the sea crashing on to it, wearing it away, little by little. Simone was that rock. "You will never insult me or my girlfriend or my friends again," Victor hissed, pointing his finger into her face. "Or I swear to God, I will hunt you down and-"

Without warning, she lurched forward headfirst, banging head with Victor. Jack saw the light leave his eyes as he collapsed to the ground. So powerful was her lurch, that she managed to flip both of the boys that were holding her over, along with herself. They released her arms somewhere in midair, grunting in pain as they slammed on to the wooden floor with a heavy crash. She landed in her one-legged crouch, her eyes blazing with triumph.

Suddenly, the door to the gym swung open, and Ms. Vierra entered the room. "What in the world-?" She looked around, her mouth open. Then her eyes locked on Simone. Jack suddenly knew what she saw :about a quarter of the students groaning and moaning as they rolled on the floor, clutching their face or stomach, with Simone standing above them. _Uh oh, _he thought. "Ms. Morrison!" she exclaimed. "Explain yourself!"

"She attacked us!" a suddenly-sickening voice called out. Jack closed his eyes, then turned around, only to confirm his fears. Jamie had stepped out, a tearful look on his face. "She started hitting us with the balls and-and started hitting people. Then she attacked Victor when he tried to get her to stop! I think she killed him!" he added after a pause.

"Ms. Vierra, that's not what happened!" Simone cried in outrage. "_They_-"

But she was already shaking her head, showing that she already believed Jamie. "You, come with me to the principal's office. Now," she snarled when Simone opened her mouth to protest.

Jack watched in incredulity as Simone closed her mouth, then shoved her hands into her pockets angrily- almost exactly like how Jack did when he was upset- and began to walk through the crowd, which had already began to part, as she had a contagious disease. One of the boys who had managed to recover more quickly from one of Simone's returned fire stuck out his foot, intending to trip her. She saw it in time, though, and stomped on it. He screamed and bent over, clutching his foot, clearly over exaggerating the pain his foot. "MY FOOT!"

Ms. Vierra turned to glare at Simone, who open her mouth to explain, but the gym teacher grabbed her by the hood- Jack could see how Simone had restrain herself from knocking her away- and hissed, "Not another word." Then she yanked on her hood and lead her out of the gym. A dull feeling of hopelessness seemed to fill him as the door closed after them.

Jack felt his stomach curdle. _This can't be any worse than it already is, _he thought.. Then he saw the two boys that had restrained Simone guffawing in ugly voices, and then most of the other kids joined in. _Nope, _he thought. _I was wrong. _A few of the kids, including Fred, weren't laughing, though. And Jack felt a fierce flash of satisfaction when the boys tried to revive Victor, who didn't seem to be responding to their advances.

"Funny, huh?" Jack whirled around to see Jamie, his tearful face suddenly gone, having been replaced with a smirk. "Pretty awesome prank, if I don't say so myself," he continued.

"_Funny?_" he repeated. "You think _that _was _funny?_ Jamie, this is the exact _opposite _of funny! This is nowhere _near _funny!" Jack felt his voice being risen to a shout, but he couldn't bring himself to care at moment. "You think it's funny when a bunch of kids gang up on a single person and trying to hurt her?! You think it's _funny?!_"

"She's a nobody," Jamie snorted. "And besides, didn't you hear Victor? She's a freak."

Anger began to fill Jack. "So Victor's word is suddenly law? Alright, so is that an excuse for getting her in trouble when she had only reacted in self-defense?!" he shouted.

"She shouldn't have pissed off Victor. You don't know the whole story," Jamie argued.

"Right. So when those same boys you just lied for today start ganging up on you and beating you senseless, it's okay because I _don't know the whole story?_" Icicles were beginning to form on top of the gym. A couple people looked up and pointed, murmuring excitedly.

"As if that would ever happen." With that, Jamie turned away and walked to one of the guys who had tried to get Simone when they had circled around her.

A few of the icicles broke and landed on the floor, causing kids to scream. Jack stared after Jamie, at a loss for what to say. Then he just shook his head, then turned around and left, trying not to let Simone's feeling of despair drag him down underneath the black ice that he now had a feeling he was only scraping the surface at.

* * *

You know, I had no idea that I had accidentally used the name for Hogwart's nurse, Madam Pomfrey, for Burgess High's nurse until after I had reread the chapter.

Anyway, I'd just like for everyone to know- because I saw a couple of doubters out there (including Jack Frost himself) when they read that Simone had had her books set on fire- that she wasn't lying, that kids really did hate her.

Would anybody mind that I use Jamie as an example for how high school and middle school can change you? Okay, thanks! ^_^

Please review.


	7. The Poisoned Portrait

OK, time to start forming some subplots, add a couple of minor conflicts that will soon get resoluted as time goes on. Maybe imply some things while leading you on with others. ^.^ Ah, well, let's just see how Simone's holding up after the attack of the dodgeball game.

* * *

_Jack-_

_The door is still open._

_-Simone_

_P.S. I'm in the basement._

"Okay, then," Jack sighed as he tucked the paper into his pocket. If Simone was still leaving him a note saying that he could come inside, then her emotional state wouldn't be too bad. Or, at least, that's what he told himself.

He opened the door, then stepped inside and wiped his feet on the doormat before closing the door behind him. The house was as eerily quiet as usual. Jack was beginning to wonder if the rest of Simone's family even existed as he walked down the hall. There were no pictures of family, the house never seemed to be even the slightest bit messed. It could have been a a wealthy old lawyer who lived here and Jack would have been none the wiser.

Guessing that, since he didn't see any door besides the patio door in the living room, the basement door was in the kitchen, he passed underneath the white archway to the right. He walked through the stylish kitchen, noticing all of the fancy household appliances, but couldn't find a door. What he did find, though, was a hallway to the part of the house that he hadn't been through yet. He hesitated, then walked through it.

Portraits of people he didn't recognize hung from the wall, either a black-and-white photo or an extremely well-done painting, though he noticed similarities between them. All of the posers had long, oval faces, their eyes wide yet slanted. And almost every single one had blue eyes, or at least a variation of blue. Two of them even had Simone's grey irises. _These were Simone's relatives, _Jack realized. Most of them were grinning, their faces alight. A couple had done cheeky poses, like blowing kisses or throwing up a peace sign. Little symbols painted a strange light blue colors were written just above the golden frame. Jack supposed that this was each of their names in Atlantean, though he could barely tell it apart from Sanskrit.

His eyes sliding from one face to the next, at first didn't register the last portrait as he turned away and exited the hallway. Then he whirled around and looked again, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he had been right the first time- it was a portrait of Simone.

She looked significantly younger, with not as many creases in her face. Her face was exactly how Jack remembered it from Hohenzollern Castle, and their trip through the land of the dead. She would have still looked like a young woman, though, if it weren't for her smile. Jack stared, his memory of her smile having dulled and kept only by a sketch of her.

The sketch did not do her justice.

Both corners of her lips were upturned, though the right side was up higher than the left; her cheeks made her look like an adorable chipmunk with freckles, and the brightness of her eyes could not be contained by the black-and-white photo. He examined the picture more closely then he did the other ones. Her hair fell in wild waves down the sides of her face and shoulders, and disappeared below the frame. She was wearing a loose black shift, with her crystal pendant snuggled in the hollow of her throat. She had light-colored(Jack couldn't identify the color)gem earrings that made her eyes seem even brighter. She looked _beautiful._

Jack stared in disbelief and awe. There was next to almost no mistake in the picture. Not even a coffee-stain-on-the-Mona-Lisa mistake or anything to even hinder the beauty that she seemed to so easily radiate. She wasn't even showing teeth in her smile, for snowflake's sake!

His eyes traveled downward, intending to read what the cryptic message on her portrait said, then caught on something on her chest. It just barely showed above her shift, but Jack could definitely see it. What looked like a dark scar peeked out from underneath the tip of the V-cut, then disappeared into her shoulder sleeve. In the black-and-white photo, it was easy to mistake as part of the shirt at a glance. But now, he could see the raised tissue and the inflamed skin around it. He had seen it on himself in many places. Jack wondered why he had never seen the scar before, but then again, he had never seen her show so much skin.

Jack couldn't help but raise his hand and gently slide his fingers against the scar, mesmerized by how it seemed to fit so well into the picture. It wasn't the coffee-stain-on-the-Mona-Lisa. No, it was the Mona Lisa's smile. It didn't hinder the picture, it completed it. Now he knew what had been missing, even though he hadn't been aware that it was until he had found it. A _personality_. Something that gave the portrait a story, a hint of their lives.

_Oh great, I'm starting to becoming philosophical._ He stepped away from the picture and shook his head. Then he turned and left the hallway, determined not to look back at the portrait, whose eyes seemed to follow him as he walked away.

There was something funny about Simone, Jack realized. Besides the obvious, of course. Over the past three years, he had calmly acknowledged a woman's beauty, then moved on, thinking that no one could outshine Tooth. But there was something about Simone...he shook his head again. She was getting into his head, in more ways than one. And not in a way that Jack liked.

The room on the other side had actually turned out to be what looked like a family room, with a huge flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, with a Wii, PlayStation3, and even an Xbox Kinect on the shelf below. A comfortable auburn couch and several cushy armchairs and beanbags were spread out around the room. While the rest of the house looked like it had never been touched, this room actually had the feeling that it was used. Consoles laid on the nightstands in the corners, while Jack could see a Wii remote poking out from behind one of the couch pillows. A bag of chips that was still half full rested against the desk against one of the walls.

Just when Jack was about to salvage the remains, he hear a sudden clanging noise. His head whipped around at the noise to see a closed door. He hesitated, then stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the knob. He took a deep breath, then turned the doorknob and pushed it opened to a long flight of stairs. Candles tucked in little holes in the wall were lit, giving the corridor an eerie look. But there looked like there was light at the bottom that actually came from florescent bulbs. Eager to get to Simone and out of the creepy hallway, he hurried down the stairs, continuing to hear loud clanging noises.

When he finally reached the basement floor, Jack found the source of the noises. Simone had taken off her PE sweatshirt and shirt, and was in a half-length-sleeved top, showing the raised scars that danced along her skin. She was furiously attacking a mummy in medieval armor with a long broadsword, though not without style. In swift, fluid motions, she drove the sword through all of the cracks in the armor, then through the metal plates themselves when she couldn't find anymore. "Nice to see you found your way," she grunted as she rolled on the floor, then sliced off the dummy's leg. The sack of hay fell to the ground with a thump.

Jack didn't reply. He was too busy gaping at the room. It was almost like the training room from the Hunger Games, with weapons and training stations all around the place. Spear-throwing, heavy lifting, archery with metal arrows, climbing nets that stretched over their heads- there was even a station to practice how to shoot strange-looking guns. "They didn't have that in the Hunger Games, now did they?" she asked before running at the mummy. Just before she could run into it, she put her hand out on to its shoulder, and she was doing a front flip over its head. She twisted in midair, and drove the sword through its chest, the tip of her sword pointing out from the other side, along with a couple straws of hay. Anger was evident in the way she moved, and Jack guessed that her talk with the principal had not gone well.

"So...what happened?" he prompted, resting his staff against the wall.

"They didn't believe me until they watched the camera tape." She grunted as she roughly shouldered the dummy, making it swing around on its revolvable pedestal. When it turned to face her again, she slashed her sword across its chest, spilling more hay on to the floor.

"So they saw what they did, right?" Jack said hopefully. "That they attacked you first?"

"Nope. Victor fed them some cock-and-bull story about how I had provoked them. I'm now suspended until Friday."

"And them?" _Please expulsion,_ he begged silently.

"A week's worth of detentions!" At the last word, she swung her sword, and the head rolled off of the neck and onto the floor. She raised her arms, as if about to slice it in half, and for a split-second, she looked insane, her face contorted with rage. She bore no resemblance to the girl in the photo. Then something crossed over her face, and she shook her head, and lowered her sword.

"Of course, what was I to expect, when Victor's dad practically owns the place?" she said as she gently placed the blade of her sword on her open palm, then turned to one of the open cases embedded in the wall. She laid the sword inside tenderly on the red velvet cushion, and then closed the door. Jack could see other deadly looking weapons inside the other cases.

She exhaled angrily as she opened the one to the right of the sword, and pulled out a long, beautifully crafted bow made out of polished golden yellow bark. She hung it on her shoulder, then pulled out a hand-woven quiver out of what looked like cedar bark, with about fifteen or twenty arrows made out of the same wood as the bow. The tips, though, weren't made out of obsidian arrowheads. As she slung the quiver over her shoulder and pulled out an arrow to load into the bow as she stalked over to the targets, Jack could see that the arrowhead was actually made out of the same crystal as the pendant in his and Simone's necklace.

Jack jumped on to one of the seemingly-random desks and sat down, watching Simone storm across the room. Without stopping, she fired her bow, and it immediately lodged itself into the dummy, right in the center of the target in the middle of its chest. She twisted her torso and she wasn't even at a good angle when she shot. But the arrow still made it somehow made another bulls-eye. Suddenly, she stopped in front of the dummy she had just hit, and lifted her bow, her other hand sliding back into the quiver to retrieve an arrow. Jack was strongly reminded of Merida as she pulled back the string, her eyes fixed on her target.

_No way, _Jack thought. There was no way she could hit that. Katniss and Merida could never hit a target from the side- and he had actually watched Merida try. With a predatory look in her eyes, she released her string, letting the arrow fly. It whizzed through the air before somehow lodging itself freaking _sideways _into the target.

_Yes way._ The corners of her mouth twitched as she lowered her bow.

Jack whistled. "You're like a present-day Katniss Everdeen."

"Katniss Everdeen?" she repeated, scoffing. She shook her head, then suddenly reached back and loaded three arrows into her bow at different angles and turned it sideways. Before Jack could even realize what she was about to do, she had let the string go, and the three arrows flew through the air. Each one sliced through each of the arrows that were already in the bulls-eye, cleanly slicing them in half.

She let her arm with bow fall to her side, and she turned to Jack, a smirk on her face. He was suddenly struck with the fact that it was the first time Simone had actually allowed her lips to turn upward in his presence. It had been two years ago, but suddenly the image came back to him in HD clarity. It was the exact same look, the exact expression of smugness, the exact mischievous twinkle in her eye. Almost everything was the same.

Almost.

"Katniss Everdeen got nothing on me," she informed him, still smirking, before turning around and heading back to the glass cases.

"You got that right," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "How'd you learn-?"

"To do all this?" she finished as she laid her bow on the floor, then pulled out four knives, the blades the same as the tips of the arrows, the handles beautifully crafted out of some type of dark red stone. She positioned herself, standing on her left leg, her right curled up underneath her, both her arms held to her chest, then, with a flash of movement, threw one of the knives. It hit one of the dummies attached to the wall in the head, right between its painted eyes. "My mom taught me," she replied as she drew herself back into her stance.

"An Atlantean thing?" he guessed.

"When you live in a place as desired as Atlantis-" she grunted as she threw another, this time hitting it in the chest "-you have to learn how to protect yourself."

Jack noticed that her right leg was out and her left hand was outstretched, instead of the opposite. "You're left-handed?" he asked in surprise.

She turned back to him, mild surprise on her face. "Ambidextrous, but I'm dominant on my left side. I thought you knew," she said as she turned back to the dummy.

"I thought you were right-handed!"

"Where did you get that idea from?" she asked before throwing another knife. It lodged itself with a dull thud into its stomach.

He racked his brain and tried to remember whether or not he had ever seen Simone use her right hand, but couldn't ever recall her using it. He also didn't know why he was so surprised that she was left-handed. "I just thought you were," he said finally.

"Yeah, well you thought wrong." She threw her last knife, and it stuck to the dummy's groin. Jack suddenly felt a flash of pain in his upper right arm. He frowned, and lifted his sweater to see a red welt that was already beginning to fade away. Confused, he dropped his sleeve, then froze when he saw the knife embedded in the dummy. Instead of hay coming out, he could see little drops of blood dripping off from the tip of the blade. He glanced over, and saw that Simone was staring at the knife, transfixed at the sight of blood, not noticing the huge gash in her sleeve.

"Simone!" he said, alarmed.

"Hmm?" She turned to him, her eyes a little unfocused.

"You're bleeding!" he cried, yanking at her arm, then tensed, expecting her to do some judo moves or something. But she only slowly looked down, her eyes taking a little while to focus on the cut in her arm that was already beginning to make streaks of blood down to her hand. He was seriously beginning to worry. "Simone?" he said nervously. "Simone, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you." Her words were slurred, and she was swaying from side to side.

Okay, he was seriously worried now. "You're bleeding. Come on, we'll get you something-" He moved to drag her back upstairs, but she shook her head and refused to move.

"But I don't have to," she protested, weakly trying to wrench her arm out of his grip.

"Simone, that needs to be bandaged up-"

"No it doesn't. Look." Suddenly, she started to grope at Jack's sweatshirt. He yelped, and tried to get out of her way, but she kept a surprisingly strong grip, and yanked down the front of his sweater.

"Woah, woah!" He pushed away from Simone, who stumbled away drunkenly. "Dude, what's wrong with you?"

She rolled her eyes as she put out a hand against one of the sword-fighting dummies to steady herself. "Fine, be like that." She reached down and grabbed the corners of her shirt and yanked it off. Jack had opened his mouth to protest, and had decided since she had reached down to pull off her shirt that he would immediately leave and wait for whatever was wrong with her to end. But as she tossed her shirt on to the floor, leaving her in a tight black tank top, only one thing registered in Jack's mind. _Boobs. _

He suddenly understood her reasons for wearing such heavy clothing. Even though she was wearing a thick cotton top- and a probably even thicker bra-, he could easily see the outline of her four-pack, the curve of her hips that suddenly looked good in sweatpants, and her...breasts. He stared, completely transfixed by their round shape, until something along the ridge of her tank top caught his eye. As soon as he found it, the large scar that he had seen upstairs seemed to jump out at him. He realized what he was doing, then hurriedly looked away, his cheeks flushing blue.

"Pervert," she muttered, though she didn't really seem too offended. Jack glanced out of the corner of his eyes, then saw her fiddling with her necklace, struggling to get it over her head. "Can't get it off with all that crap on," she muttered to no one in particular. When she finally got it off, she pressed it to the cut, wincing as Jack felt a slight pain on his arm. Suddenly, the crystal began to glow a luminous blue color. Jack turned to her, forgetting the boob situation, and stared in amazement as, right before his eyes, the skin began to crawl over the wound, until the streaks of blood seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the cut gone.

Simone sighed as she pulled the necklace back over her head, suddenly seeming a lot more like herself. Then she glanced at Jack, then down at herself. "Couldn't you have stopped me from taking my shirt off?" she demanded as she bent down and picked up her shirt, though her cheeks were beginning to redden in embarrassment.

"Don't go trying to blame that on me!" he exclaimed, pointing at himself. "What the heck was that?!"

"Nothing, just a quick way to get drunk and high at the same time," she said as she pulled her shirt back over her head.

"_What?_"

"Didn't you see the stone of the knives? That was made out of the same crystal as this." She gestured to her necklace. "When exposed to the bloodstream, it's fatal to regular people- it actually turns them into the stone themselves- but it just causes the same effects as having about five shots of pure vodka to Atlanteans, just that it's an immediate reaction instead of an hour delay. I should have chosen a different knife," she admitted. "I have that problem, where I'll accidentally cut myself while throwing knives."

"Right." A thought suddenly occurred him. "Wait- you have all those scars and stuff on your arms, but you don't have one from just now."

"These?" She lifted her arm, showing the black scars that gave Jack shivers. She saw the look on his face, and immediately dropped the sleeve. "These are from poisoned wounds. The crystal can't completely restore the tissue that the poison reached, so it leaves a scar."

"So...all the ones that _weren't _poisoned..."

"Those people are dead now," she said flatly, her eyes hard.

"Ah." Jack glanced away, then his eyes caught on to the dummy that she had been throwing knives at. He hadn't had a chance to admire her handiwork, since she had gotten 'drunk'. But now he could see how each of the knives were almost perfectly aligned, like a linear equation. "Shame you can't do that to any of the guys back at the school," he remarked as she made her way back over to the weapons' cases.

She glanced at the dummy and nodded. "Shame," she agreed as she pulled her quiver over her head and slid it inside, then bent down to pick up her bow. "But we can't always get what we want, now can we?" Her voice was soft as she said the last sentence, and the tall, regal way that she held herself vanished, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly.

Jack watched her as she fingered the string of her bow, noticing, for the first time, that there were scars in the middle of her knuckles, as if the skin had split when they had punched it something too hard. Jack felt a pang in his chest. "This isn't the first time, is it?" he asked softly. "That they've gotten you in trouble like this?"

She hesitated, then shook her head as she placed the bow inside with the quiver and closed the cabinet door. "I try not to get in anybody's way, but I'm not going to let some coward who get's his jollies off of torturing kids who are smaller and supposedly weaker than him walk over me," she said firmly.

"I don't get it, though. You have all of these awesome moves- and they _know _this- but you just let them attack you?"

Her head whipped around to face him, glaring at him. "I don't _let _them do anything."

"Simone, if you can do all of this, then why on Earth are they treating you like this?" he demanded.

"Because they're stupid." She slammed the door case, then began to make her way back upstairs.

Jack grabbed his staff and hurried after her. "Maybe if you just showed them what you could do- could _really _do- they would leave you alone," he suggested.

She shook her head as they reached the top floor. "It doesn't work like that."

Jack was now struggling to keep up with her fast pace. "Why not? I mean, it could totally work. You, showing off your powers and stuff, threatening them to kill them, and they'd totally leave you alone. Otherwise, you're just letting them walk all over you."

"I'm not letting them do anything!" Jack noticed that she was beginning to clench her fists in frustration.

They were now speed-walking up the stairs. He had completely forgotten to ask Simone about the picture. But it was too late now; he was more focused on why Simone refused to stand up for herself. "But if you just let them get you in trouble like this for something _they _do-"

She whirled around, and he saw a mad glint in her eye. "I'm not letting them do ANYTHING!" she roared. Jack had only a moment's warning, spotting the blue flames around her. He threw up his right arm instinctively and closed his eyes just before the wall of fire was upon him. White-hot pain seared at his skin, and he felt himself cry out. The fire seemed to shoot straight to his bone, and set everything, every nerve, vein, tendon, on fire.

He was barely aware of his back hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. He gasped, cradling his burnt arm. For a second, there was a weird buzzing in his ear. It slowly faded away, and he could faintly hear the sound of footsteps. They weren't moving towards him; they were moving away. Jack, somehow managing to think through the pain in his arm, was confused; did she think he had deserved it? No, no, he could feel guilt and even shock and horror at herself. She clearly regretted burning him. So where was she going?

Jack forced himself to take several deep breaths, trying to ignore the smell of burnt flesh, before opening his eyes. He first glanced down at his arm, then had to suppress a groan. The usually pale skin was a bright shiny red, the center a hideous black, and covered his forearm like a red-and-black glove. He lifted his eyes, then froze. Simone was only a couple stairs down, facing him. Her eyes widened when she saw that he had opened his eyes, and she had apparently been in the motion of going back to him. He was still confused, though. But then his eyes landed on the icepack that was already in her right hand, then understood. He lifted his eyes, and their eyes met.

For the first time ever, Simone looked unsure of herself. Her eyes wide, her limbs frozen, she looked like a deer caught in headlights. Then she puffed her cheeks and shook her head, before returning her face back to a unfathomable mask. She jogged up the remaining steps, then knelt besides Jack and took his arm and gently pressed the ice pack to it. He gasped at unexpected burning, then gritted his teeth together and pressed the back of his head against the wall.

"Relax." The word slipped out her mouth as soft and as gentle as Jack never imagined it could be. He glanced at her, but she was looking determinedly at his arm, not meeting his gaze. Instead, she was sliding her hands up and around the ice pack. Jack was about to tell her that ice wasn't good for a second- or third-degree burn, but suddenly the ice seemed to stretch, lengthen. Jack stared in amazement as the ice began to melt, but keep its shape, and even gasped when the ice pack was suddenly a pack of water. The water was slightly warmer, and felt more appealing against his skin. Simone inhaled deeply, then closed her eyes. It began to wrap around his entire arm, enveloping the burn. He let a low hiss escape through his teeth, but sighed at the blissful feeling, and let his head rest against the wall.

_I'm sorry._

Jack opened his eyes to see Simone looking sincerely back at him. "I know," he said softly. She nodded, and looked back down at his arm. They were silent for a while, neither quite sure what to say. Jack, never one for silence, finally said, "I thought it was impossible to have a Water affinity and a Fire affinity at the same time."

"I never said it was impossible."

"You implied it."

"Miscommunication on your part." He gaped at her, then saw her lips twitch, and realized what she was doing. "Believe it or not, I wasn't always like this."

He decided to lie. "Like what?"

"Don't pretend, Jack. You know what I'm talking about," she said wearily. "I don't know why I'm like - why I'm like this. So angry and so...closed off. No, that's a lie, I do. But I don't think I'll tell you yet," she added, already sensing his question. He pouted, but nodded for her to continue. "I'm not like other people in some ways, but I think being raised in Atlantis does that to you. But I remember...I remember being happy once. Laughing and smiling. Maybe that's why I have my water affinity. Then, as I grew up...I just stopped laughing and smiling as much. Then I remember becoming more and more angry." She bit her lip, and Jack was once again reminded of the picture downstairs. "And then I stopped being able to use my Water affinity correctly. Because of...what happened. But it happened so long ago, and I don't know why it's still affecting me. All I know is that I'm angry, all the time, and I don't even know why. The only thing I do know is that I hurt people when I get angry. Either physically or emotionally. And I don't mean to. I don't want to. But I just do." She sighed, bowing her head.

Jack watched her for a couple seconds, then asked, "Do you do yoga?"

She lifted her head up, surprise on her face. "Yeah. Every morning."

"How about long baths?"

"Uh, a lot. Why?"

"Well, clearly, all this fighting and fire-blasting isn't helping you out with your temper, now is it?"

"Well, if I didn't have you to challenge me, it wouldn't be a problem, now would it?" she countered smoothly.

He grinned. "Touche. But what _do _you do when you get angry?"

She shrugged, slipping her necklace into the floating water. It began to glow a slight blue light, and Jack could begin to feel the dead tissue fall away, the new skin already forming underneath. "Hold it in. Let it stew for a while, then go and destroy a couple things in the basement. The usual."

"That's not good. If you keep it in like that, then you're bound to explode every once in a while. Sometimes, when you keep things in like that, then just take it out on something or some_one _else, the problem's still there. It's still brewing behind the surface. And it's going to just keep adding up until you end up like Mt. St. Helens."

"Oh no, you're going all philosophical on me."

"Simone, I'm serious."

"And the one time I'm not, you're upset."

He stared at her. She was avoiding his gaze, avoiding the question. She had always seemed to face things head-on, with a punch or a quick kick with it. She was never one to jog around it and keep on going. "Simone, what happened?" he asked.

"Nothing that concerns you," she said flatly.

"Um, in case you haven't noticed, we're- as unfortunate as it is- _bonded. _Which, as far as you told me, makes your problems my problems."

Her lips were pressed into a thin line. "Who says it's a problem anymore?"

_Your mental state. _Jack bit on his tongue to keep the words from coming out. But it was plain that she was clearly unstable, her mind not as calculated and steady she seemed in public. "Maybe I should take you ice skating," he suggested.

"Ice skating?" she scoffed. "Isn't that how you drowned?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Just thought you might try and avoid another death. Since I had to bring you back the last time."

"And I thoroughly enjoyed your company that time."

"Did you now? I recall a moment afterwards where you had drawn of picture of me, then cried for about ten minutes."

"And I thoroughly remember that."

She pinched her lips together, and didn't say anything as she handed him back his arm. The skin was pale and shiny and new, like a baby's. He slid his fingers along where the burn was, but instead of feeling dead nerves, each one was alive, the senses raised, each touch ten times more sensitive than the last. He glanced up at Simone, who was dumping the water into the potted plant in the corner. He cleared his throat, and she looked up. "Thanks." She shrugged, and turned back to the pot. Jack knew that she wasn't going to say anymore. Unless... "Do you want to go ice skating me tomorrow?" he asked as he stood up.

Simone raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ice skating. You know, skating on ice. With ice skates. On ice."

She squinted at him. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"Kind of. But I'm serious too."

She looked down again. "I've never been ice skating, so I'd probably be a drag."

He squinted at her. Her face and tone seemed sincere, but there was something...off. "You're lying," he realized.

"No I'm not."

He opened his mouth to persist, but then closed it when he realized that it would be useless. "So what you haven't been ice skating? I can teach you," he offered. "I'm pretty good at it without skates."

"Sorry, I don't want to get frostbite." She began to jog down the stairs. Her hands were by her sides, her fingers not clutched into fists, but tensed to the point that he was worried that she would begin to cramp- and then so would he. "Shouldn't you be leaving by now?"

Jack shook his head as he followed her down. "Nah, I'd rather stay here, make sure you don't do anything crazy."

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, then sighed, pressing a hand to the right side of her face. "Fine. You can stay. But I'm warning you, I won't be much fun. I'm rather-" A loud yawn interrupted her, and she leaned against the wall, her body suddenly drooping with weariness. Jack blinked at the sudden show of weakness, and stopped about two steps above her, unsure what to do. She turned her head, so that the right side of her face was pressed against the wall, and tilted her head upward so that their eyes could meet. Her irises were a light gray, and they glinted in the light of the sun shining through the skylight. Jack felt shivers go up his back, though they felt good, in a way. "Are you sure you still want to stay?" she asked softly.

He hesitated, then nodded. "I'll stay."

"Okay. But- could you do me a favor?" Her voice sounded eerily faint, her eyelids drooping slightly. He didn't need the bond to tell him that she was struggling to stay awake. He remembered when she had told him that she hadn't slept in over a day yesterday, and wondered if she had slept last night.

"Yeah, sure."

"Could you go up to my room and grab the book that I showed you yesterday, _Nashataku Bonjkumon?_" she asked. "'The Secret of Nash Valley'?" she said impatiently, to his blank face.

"Oh right!" He hurried up the stairs, and entered her room. The redness of the walls didn't seem to bother him as much as last time. He glanced around the room, then caught sight of it on her desk. He leaned over and picked it up, and was about to leave when he noticed that something was sticking out of the pages. Curious, he pinched the flap between his fingers and pulled it out, expecting a bookmark.

To his surprise, it was a photograph- and even more surprising, it was of a boy. He had recently began to think that Simone was asexual, that neither sex could attract her. He studied it with more interest than he would have if it had been someone's else picture. He was a good-looking boy with chiseled features. He was about thirteen or fourteen, who looked Hispanic, with his tanned skin and sparse facial hair that most people would find sexy. The only odd thing about him was his eye color, which were an odd shade of blue. They were the same blue that he had once seen Simone's eyes been when they had first met, who, incidentally, was also in the photo.

Her expression shocked him. Her face was full of pain of being in the process of laughing too hard. Jack hadn't even been sure that she could laugh. Her eyes were squeezed tight, tears beginning to form at the corners. Her hands clutched at the boy's arm playfully, her head nestled on his shoulder. Jack was surprised at the position he was holding her. His left arm was around her shoulders as, the right around her waist to pull her close. He was laying the side of his face on hers, and their cheeks would be touching if it weren't for her long hair that were in the same wild, wavy curls that he had seen earlier. Whoever he was, he seemed to know her...intimately. The boy was grinning broadly, though not at the camera. His eyes were focused on Simone, his eyes soft as they gazed upon her laughing face.

Jack stared at the picture for a little more, then hurriedly stuffed the photo back into the book, worried that somehow Simone would know that he was looking at something that was probably very private. He tucked the book in his pocket and jogged back down the stairs. "Got your book!" he called, when he reached the bottom landing, then frowned when he saw that Simone still wasn't resting against the wall. "Simone?"

He glanced around as he walked into the sitting room, then spotted her laying on the longest couch. "There you are! I got your book." Jack was about to tap on her on her shoulder when he saw that her eyes were closed. He retracted his hand, and shook his head, chuckling softly. She was asleep. Jack laid the book on the nightstand, and sat on the arm of the couch, watching her. Even as she slept, she seemed tense, her fingers clenched into fists under face, her muscles taut. Her face was tight, drawn. Her body was curled up into a ball, as if shielding herself from the rest of the world.

Jack sighed. He knew what it felt like to gain no peace from sleep. There had been a period of time, after Pitch had attacked him, where he would sleep for days at a time, and still awake feeling as if he had only napped for five minutes. He sighed again. He couldn't leave her down here. He slid off of the couch arm, then slid his arms under her body, and, as best as he could without waking her up, lifted her off of the couch in a cradle position. She was heavier than he had expected, and he staggered under the weight for a second. Once when he managed to regain his balance, he checked to make sure that she was still sound asleep, then began to fly back upstairs.

By the time he reached her room, he was puffing, and beads of sweat were beginning to bead along his hairline. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally able to lay her on her bed. He stepped back, still trying to catch his breath, and sat on her desk. She was still sound asleep, and didn't seem to be disturbed by their flight to her room. He tilted his head, noticing that she was also beginning to sweat. He leaned down to touch her forehead and almost leaped back. It was searing hot, so much that he was surprised that her skin wasn't smoking. Jack wasn't familiar with the affects of having a Fire affinity, but he was sure that fiery hot skin wasn't a good sign. He hesitated, then placed his full palm on her forehead, ignoring the heat, and struggled to push his own cooling powers into her.

It took a while, but finally, she stopped sweating, her skin having cooled down. Jack took his hand away, and glanced at Simone. As he looked at her, he felt something odd in the pit of his stomach, something that he hadn't felt in a while. He stared at the sleeping figure, then abruptly turned around and down the stairs, trying to ignore the conflicted feelings that were battling inside of his chest. As he closed the door behind him as he exited the house, he glanced up, and, in his mind's eye, saw Simone's sleeping figure. _What am I going to do about you? _he wondered.

* * *

This chapter is called The Poisoned Portrait because Jack sees two pictures of Simone. But when he compares it to her, it's like a pretty portrait gone sour. Just for anybody who's confused.

Also, I have now added in another original character! :D Who you think the mystery boy is? What do you think he is to Simone? And where do you think he he is now?

That review button is looking pretty lonely down there. Why don't you tell him all of your opinions and make a lonely old author happy?


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